I came thumping in the door after a church neighborhood group meeting (it’s a thing I just don’t have time to explain right now or maybe ever because so I don’t know why I didn’t just say that I was someplace that I go once a week, like Zumba) with Penelope with me, even though I don’t usually take her to Zumba, but I took her this week because Phil has been doing a lot of stuff for me recently in the thankless supportive kind of category, though it’s more just supportive, not thankless, because I do thank him a lot of times, but I kind of cancel it out with bitching and then apologizing about the bitching, and apologizing doesn’t cancel out bitching as much as bitching erases thanking right out of the heads of the people you thanked, making them feel like what they’ve done is thankless, even if it’s not technically so, but “technically thankless and supportive” required way too much explanation, which is why I just went with “thankless and supportive” as a descriptor for the kinds of things he’s been doing lately that lead me to take Penelope along to my Zumba class to give him a little time to himself, even if it wasn’t a lot of time, because if you have a small child who isn’t yet in any kind of school, maybe you get time to yourself at work, and maybe you get time to yourself when you run some errands here and there, but time to yourself IN YOUR OWN HOUSE is a thing that is suddenly no longer a thing that YOU DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE YOU MISSED until you recognized that one, it’s a thing, and two, you’re no longer getting it, and once you realize you’re not having any of that and haven’t for a VERY long time, it becomes a really excellent kind of gift to give or receive if you’re doing or are the receiver of behaviors that fall into the category of thankless and supportive, or maybe technically thankless and supportive, which really might as well be the same thing for all intents and purposes.
And it’s not that Penelope was bad at Zumba, it’s just that I don’t usually take her there, so she doesn’t really get what she’s supposed to be doing, so she needed a lot more attention than one might usually want to give to one’s child when trying to focus on the head of Zum, and there was also a situation that necessitated an outfit change, and I hadn’t slept except for two hours last night, and I only slept those two hours because Phil kept watch to make sure I didn’t die in the night, which is a whole other thing that I’m not getting into but might shed some light on an earlier conversation on Twitter about whether or not it’s appropriate to dial the emergency number to report a dead person who has clearly been dead for quiet some time, like maybe died in the night and is certainly not exactly going to benefit from any sort of emergency medical services or anyone really rushing over, and I will tell you right now that while you’re free, of course, to venture on over to Twitter and check out that conversation for yourself, the Internet did not exactly find in my favor which put me in a pretty bad mood, pre-Zumba, especially since the topic of… Zumba-ing… centered a bit around pride and how it comes in to play in disagreements with spouses and admitting when one may be wrong and as a couple that generally agrees to go with the popular opinion of the Internet, it really gives me the red ass when the Internet turns out to be a bunch of PHILLIPS about a particular topic, so I won’t be continuing that discussion in the comments here, especially since so much good stuff has already been said on Twitter, the best stuff, of course, being the stuff that got where I was coming from and the essential correctness of my logicitude, and you can feel free to jump in there if you want to add any experience on that.
So that’s how, wronged by the Internet and totally Zumba’d out, running on two hours of sleep that I was pretty sure – AT THE TIME – might, possibly, end in death but turned out not to (I was actually woken up this morning by with the words, “Hey, you’re not dead,” so that was nice), I came home and wanted to just crash directly into my bed.
I’M SO TIRED.
“So go to bed.”
I CAN’T, I HAVE TO DO A POST. WILL YOU DO ONE FOR ME?
COME ON. COME OOOOOON. I’M SO TIRED.
“Just post a picture and go to bed.”