Friday, August 27, 2004

One for the birds

As you may have noticed, I do not use this blog (or my other blog, currently having hiccups again, hence this reposting) to express my innermost feelings. I don't write about my emotions and talk about how misunderstood I am, nor am I writing about my quest for spiritual and personal growth. I tried writing like that once. I even joined a 'journaling workshop' briefly, many years ago. (When did 'journal' become a verb, anyway?)

What a load of codswallop I produced during that time! Even I couldn't read it. It bored me to tears. Somehow I'd managed to reduce the dramatic and monumental load of crap that was being dumped on me to a self-pitying, irritating whine. There was absolutely nothing I could do about this stuff anyway. It was out of my hands. I had not done anything to cause it. There was nothing I could do to stop it happening. I knew it would keep happening, probably for the rest of my life, and how was I dealing with it? By whiiiiiining.

Bugger that.

I decided I just didn't have the patience for self-exploration, and besides it's one thing to bore other people but it's quite another to bore yourself. Being a congenitally cheerful person (shallow, if you prefer) it was difficult to sustain the misery anyway. There can be all sorts of emotions skittering around on the surface, and a sadness lurking underneath that (but everybody has that sadness; that's just life), and then a kitten leaps vertically into the air in fright at the sight of its own tail, farting loudly - and suddenly all is fine and funny with the world. (This actually happened to me in the middle of a very distressing and emotional telephone conversation with a family member, and it was very hard to justify why I started laughing. "This kitten seems to be jet-propelled" probably wasn't a very good explanation.)

So, I decided, I might be feeling sad, and life might be tragic and unfair, but there was no need to make myself miserable about it.

That being said, I am now going to break my own rules and indulge in a little whine.

This morning I woke up in a massively black mood. It was too damned hot and I was drenched in sweat and misery. The Man was snoring peacefully beside me and I regarded him balefully. It was all his fault. He had set the air conditioner before he came to bed, at a temperature perfect for lizards. He was perfectly comfortable, and I was suffering. "It's all very well for you," I muttered, and he smiled in his sleep. I almost hit him.

I could have got up and lowered the temperature, but the towel I was sleeping on was soaked through anyway, as was the pillow, and if I did he'd just wake up and complain about how cold it was. So I got up and had a shower instead, feeling grumpy and out-of-sorts. Then I went outside to get the newspaper, and the moment I stepped outside a bird crapped on my head.

And that's it, really. I woke up feeling like I'd been crapped on from a great height, and then I was. Oh, very funny.

I have no explanation for why it made me feel better.


tinyhands said...

If you can get that farting kitty on video all your problems will be solved. People pay good money for farting kitty videos. Puppies not so much, but I don't know why.

Badaunt said...

It was so long ago I'm fairly sure the farting kitten is no longer a kitten, and, alas, no longer farting.

I housesat for a friend a couple of years ago, taking care of her newly rescued kitten. That kitten farted too, only more often, silently, and incredibly stinkily. He was also very affectionate.

Luckily it was only a couple of days. I don't think I could have lasted much longer.

Audie said...

You always do such a good job of making me laugh. I understand entirely why you felt better - because somedays it just can't get any worse thus good times ahcomin' up. :) Great post for the day. :)

Badaunt said...

Well, you're right it didn't get worse. It didn't get all that much better, either, but at least the self-pity thing was taken care of.