DAMN YOU, CLOTHES! DAMN YOU ALL TO HELL!
Yesterday morning I cursed out my closet.
It really had done very little to deserve the verbal abuse. I was in a rush that morning – I'd overslept, raced to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription (which they ended up filling out wrong), thrown together breakfast and lunch for my daughter, eschewed a shower and my contacts because I was so very late, and was sifting through my hanging clothes, trying to find a certain pair of jeans for a meeting I had, and nearly every time I pushed over one item to get to the next… it fell off the hanger and crumpled onto the floor.
Again and again this happened. And when I'd try to take out the hanger to re-hang the kamikaze piece of clothing, the hanger would somehow have tangled with another hanger, and the process of detangling them led to more items falling. One hanger ended up irreparably bent, and half my wardrobe rained down onto the floor. I felt myself getting angrier and angrier until I finally exploded with rage:
"F*** YOU!!!" I screamed at an innocent-looking baby-blue shirt. "F*** YOU!!!"
The shirt didn't reply.
It was about that point I realized I might be a little stressed.
I also realized I was very grateful my six-year-old likes to watch Dora with the volume waaaay up.
Me at my meeting yesterday, unshowered and un-contact-lensed. But taking pictures nonetheless...
I have a lot of stuff on my plate right now, but honestly, so does everyone else. We all have our mishegoss, and for the most part, we handle it with great aplomb, especially since — at least speaking for myself — my blessings far outweigh my garbage.
But every now and then the garbage-o-meter slips into the red zone… and I find myself screaming obscenities to articles of clothing.
So here's my question to everyone out there: how do you know when your stress levels are getting absurdly out of control? Ever had a crazy-out-of-proportion meltdown? And when you do get over-stressed, what do you do to fix it? Do you meditate? Exercise? Do you have a secret formula we all need to harass you for so we can use it to slide past every insane-o moment in our lives? Whatever it is, I'd love to hear it!
And if you happen to see my baby-blue shirt wandering the streets looking depressed, please let it know that I'm sorry.
