In the bathtub with Cameron Diaz.
So let’s talk about real stuff.
It’s cold today. Not colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra, only -12C at present (just after 10pm), but still enough to freeze the hairs in your nose.
I’m tired. I’ve been tired and depressed for a few weeks, now. All I want to do is sleep. Leaving the house has been an insurmountable thing, getting regular errands and chores done has been impossible. It’s hard to explain how completely debilitating, how crippling, depression can be. But I’ll muddle through. I always do. I kind of have to; I’m looking after my kids this weekend.
Speaking of my children, I recently found out that my daughter had her first period — on New Year’s Eve. Happy New Year, darling! Ahem. Anyway, this news made me feel a whole pallette of emotions. I’m excited and proud because this means she’s growing up — and I’m terrified and wistful because this means she’s growing up. Sigh. What else…? She recently made it to the town’s volleyball team, and we’re all very proud of that. She’s really stoked. Of course, this means practices, registration fees, uniforms, tournaments, travelling… We’ll see how this goes. We’re all kind of new to the concept.
My son has been grounded all week. He made some bad choices last week, one of which was letting his temper get the best of him, so he’s been house-bound. That’s not so bad, though, because he’s spent the time practicing his guitar, getting homework done, and, OH.MY.GOD., reading a book. The kid almost never reads, these days. Well, aside from sports magazines. But he’s got an actual novel underway, and I’m happy about that. He used to be a voracious reader several years ago, but he kind of lost the bug when his sports fanaticism took over. Anyway, it’s been a good week. He seems a lot more mellow when he’s not plugged in to the internet during all his free time.
My uncle’s children’s book, for which I’ve been tasked with doing the illustrations… God, I should just tell him I can’t do it. It’s been over a year, and I’ve produced diddly shit. Nada. I can’t draw like I used to back in the day. I’ve atrophied. Plus, the depression has sapped my creative juices something terrible. All my creative outlets have been sterilized. I don’t know what to do about this.
While I’m bemoaning that task, there comes another one. My brother-in-law has a new roofing business and needs a logo for it. So he phoned me today to see if I could help him out. It sounds dead simple, so I should be able to do it with my eyes closed. I said I’d have something to send him by the middle of next week.
My car seems to be having an easier time with winter than it did last year. I’ve left it unplugged after three or four days outside in below-freezing temperatures and it has started for me every time. Faithful horse. However, it is getting really bad with the amount of oil it burns. It only has 201,000km on it, but I think it is due for a rebuild. Or overhaul. Or ring job. Or something. I have enough money in my bank account to allow me to do something about it if I have to, but I’m not sure I want to spend that much money on such an old car (however much I’ve become attached to it over the past four years), and I still have it in my mind to go out and get laser eye surgery sometime in the spring. And hey — god only knows what other demented expense will rear its head between now and then. Sigh.
I got my hair cut short just before Christmas. Sort of short and messy/spiky. It looked good. But it’s grown out over the past month and now looks a little awkward. You needed to know this. Maybe I’ll post a picture when I get it cut again. Hopefully the dude that cut it last time can do the same thing just as well, a second time.
Okay, I think that’s it for updates and randomnositous ramblings.
Oh wait. The title. I had a dream a few nights ago that Cameron Diaz and I were in this big clawfoot bathtub and I was washing her hair. Okay so there are a couple of things about this that are odd. First, I don’t really have a thing for Ms. Diaz. Second, there wasn’t anything sexual about the experience. It was very matter-of-fact. In fact, the whole episode took place in the middle of a convenience store of some kind, and people were watching this take place. Um. Okay. I swear, my brain smokes crack when I’m not looking.
Hope you all are doing well.
J.
January 28th, 2008 at 6:47 am
It’s too bad your depression makes you allergic to your own creativity, because doing creative things is the cure for depression. Someone should do something about that, right?