I always think of my boyfriend in high school when I hear the word 'agitate'. I can't really remember why...
Today. (today, meaning Wednesday, but I'm posting after midnight, so... ya know...) Today was a weird, weird day. I lazied around all morning. I was reading New Moon, AGAIN. I like New Moon better than I used to. I like that Edward goes away. And I even swing for Team Edward. Weird.
Anyway. Then I went and got my kids from school. When I got home, my friend was parked out in front of my house. She had come over to drop off something that Ella left at her house. And she stayed and helped me dip a table full of caramel pretzels in chocolate. But not before she washed my dishes for me. And not before I ran around picking up, feeling embarrassed by the state of my house.... and it wasn't even that bad, compared to my past messy-house experiences. My room is still a freakin' disaster, but that's beside the point. My room has a door. A door that I always shut. But, laundry was ALL OVER the bathroom floor. Dishes from last night all over the table, not to mention the counter top and sink. And other stuff was scattered about. Like I said, it's been MUCH worse, but I was so anxious. Plus, I hadn't eaten lunch and she made me a tuna-fish sandwich. In my own house. I loved it. Best tuna sandwich ever. But... I felt a little silly. As I wandered around, I realized, again, that I suck at having people in my house. In my space. I did a post about that once which I was going to hyperlink to, but it's too hard to find right now. And I'm tired. But I have things to say. With lots of periods and small sentences. And less than desirable grammar.
So, back to my realization that I had already realized before that moment....
I get anxious with people in my house. Some people. Sometimes. There's no hard and fast rule about who I'm anxious with, what I'm anxious about, and when I'm anxious... or not. I've had this friend in my house many times. Sometimes I get worked up. Other times, not at all. Today I was worked up. I laughed at myself mid-anxiousness. I had some thoughts about why the anxiety comes. I tried sharing them just now, but, clearly, I'm not feeling very eloquent tonight and it didn't work out to write out my whys. But. I had some interesting thoughts, and you know what?, I felt better after I thought them.
Moving on. Dinner time. I made dinner. (I've been rockin' the dinner scene... well, sort of) We were sitting down and eating as a little family. All was well. Something was said or something happened and I can't even tell you what it was, but I was suddenly agitated. I was done eating, but I was the only one and it was all I could do to stay in my chair. I did. For a few more minutes. Then I remembered that I needed to go email someone something and I got up, cleared my dishes and went to the computer without a word. Rude. I didn't care though.
It was unidentifiable. Unknown. Unnamed and unrecognized. I had no idea why I was so worked up... I just felt downright crazy. I don't like to feel something without knowing why I'm feeling it. I like to dig down to the root and check it out, take a sample, take it back to the lab, run tests, analyze and examine and write reports. But I couldn't find my shovel. It was MIA. The rest of the night passed and I was short-tempered, short-fused and all those other short-words that mean I was agitated, irritable and grumpy. Dustin went to karate. (he got his black belt on Saturday, YAY! for him!!) I had to put the kids to bed. I was trying REALLY hard to be semi-nice, but after I got them in bed I was thinking of changing my FaceBook status to: Clancy is a mean mom. But I'm not.... normally. So I didn't change it. Then Dustin came home. He was being all nice and stuff. Sweet. Sweet, like only my husband can be. I was doing the same thing with him as with my kids...(Clancy is a mean wife... sometimes)... trying to be nice when all I felt like doing was kicking a hole in a wall. I told him I feel agitated. I don't feel well. I feel crazy. I feel like how other people describe PMS-irritability (which I don't normally get). He said, "I don't like it when you say that." I didn't like his comment very much, but I was still trying to keep my foot on the floor instead of in a wall. I decided I needed to finish dipping apples. RIGHT then. Do not wait. Do not Pass Go. Do not collect $200. (seriously, what does $200 bucks buy you these days? Not much.)
So, I went and started. Got the caramel all hot. Talked to my husband who came in the room where I was. Had a moment of non-agitation while relating a FaceBook story from yesterday about women and our intuition. Dustin laughed at this one part, and said, "Women!" But it was totally true. No man would EVER have a FB exchange like the one that went on between my friend and I. Ever.
Went and layed by D in bed for a minute. He was turning in. We held hands and I said a prayer that I didn't feel like saying in the least, but, was just what I needed to do, perfectly so. Dang it. Why does it always have to be that way?
Left him to go to sleep while I dipped the plain apples. I needed tunes and went to find my iPod. Then I saw the laundry I've been working on all afternoon/evening. Then I folded more, changed loads, etc... Then I decided that I wanted to vent on my blog. Then FaceBook sucked me in for a little while. Then I went back to the blog. I sat and stared at my computer screen and discovered that I wanted to vent, but I did'nt want to write anything 'moving' or 'cryptic' or 'emotional'... too much work tonight. Then I had an epiphany. What if I just blabbed? Blabbed and blabbed and blabbed. And so I did. And I never got back to the apples...