I’ve been in a mood.

Actually, I’ve been in all kinds of moods. Good, bad, indifferent. It’s been a weird 10 days or so, and really, except for the few times I’ve hung out with friends, I haven’t really felt like doing anything. I’m retreating again. I don’t know if it was another deathaversary of sorts, more probate crap or what, but I definitely planted myself firmly in “meh” mode for quite a good bit since returning from my August trips. I’ve narrowed my inner circle the last few weeks or so to just a few friends, co-workers and my late night internet buddies. I think I did it without even totally realizing I was, until the urge to stay home instead of going to hang out with friends I absolutely adore finally smacked me in the head with it’s stupidity. I went out instead, and had a fabulous time.

So this time I’m trying to fight it. I’m trying to do more than just my normal go to work, go home and back to work again pattern. I’m actually trying to be social. I’m putting away the widow woe-is-me pass and am making plans, people, PLANS.

Tomorrow I’m going to meet some online folks I’ve been wanting to get to know for over a year, and somehow I always found excuses not to. Tomorrow I’m not going to worry about the widow crap, the widow weight, or anything except having fun and making friends and just go. Then I’ll go to work for a bit, and then I’ll hang out with friends again after work. A twofer of sorts.

I have football games coming up, a bowling league starting, Sunday night softball, a neighborhood poker run, all kinds of things.

I’m getting out of bed, getting out the door and stepping back into my life. 18 months has been way too long without it. I don’t recognize it anymore, and though I know it has irrevocably changed, I think somewhere there’s a glimmer of the awesome that it was and can and will be again. Kind of like the edge of a golden ticket in a Wonka bar. And if it takes a bunch of candy bars to get there, well Mr. Wonka, I’m on my way.

Gregory has been dead for 18 months. 18.

That’s all I feel like saying about it today. Maybe more later. Maybe not.

How many times do you have to count the time your husband has been dead before you really start to believe it?

My tolerance for douche-baggery and general dumbassedness in general seems to have become almost non-existent these days. I’m not sure if it’s “grief stress” or just life in general that’s making me that way, I just know me, and my fuse these days ? Shorter than Gary Coleman.

Bullet-List example …..

• I overheard a woman in the store bitching about her C-PAP machine and how uncomfortable it was, and she just couldn’t figure out how her breathing could effect her sleep…..while she was buying CIGARETTES. I felt like jamming them up her ass and setting a lighter to her nostrils.
• A woman leaving Target with her small son in 38 degree weather, telling him it was his fault he was cold because he was “Mr. I won’t wear a jacket.” Hey MOM ? MOM = you are the PARENT. Make him wear one. Or do us a favor and don’t breed again. Break even on the gene pool please.
• A woman in front of me who threw a McDonalds cup out the window at a red light, while her two kids watched from the back seat. I got out, picked up the cup, and politely as I could told her to keep her trash to herself when I felt like slapping her dumb ass. Instead I told her I was reporting her to DHR for being an unfit parent. Chew on that with your Big Mac, biatch.
• I spent 15 minutes in Belk at The Summit last night looking at clothes while the sales clerk hung up new stock whilst chatting away on her cell phone. I was looking for something in particular and not once did she acknowledge my presence. I took my purchases downstairs to customer service where I paid and asked them to explain to her what that term means and to tell her to tell Kesha that I hope that rash clears up.
• If you’re still going to write a freaking check at Publix – please for the love of all that is good have your ID in your hand with your check ! Don’t send your child out to the car to get it out of the cup holder while I’m behind you or next time,  I may be using your anus as a corkscrew for that pinot noir I was trying to buy.
• People that cannot make a simple decision without checking in via phone with their significant other for every.single.detail. Who dials for you when you need to see if it’s ok to wipe your ass ?
• The media. Must we blow EVERY single thing that happens across the world into OMG IT’S A TRAGEDY AND WE MUST ALL EMPTY OUR BANK ACCOUNTS? I love a good drama but I usually only like to see Geraldo once or twice a week.
• Methodist’s (or anyone claiming to be a “good christian” ) in self-righteous, lying, money grubbing sheep’s clothing. Yes, I mean you. And the rest of your family. Hypocritical asshats, all of you. But please, keep reading! I have much more to say to you.

So that’s what’s lighting my fuse today. I honestly think it’s a combination of stress, worry, the upcoming death-a-versary and just life in general. Maybe once my two spring breaks arrive and I get a change of scenery I’ll have a change of attitude. Until then, to quote Jack Nicholson in one of my favorite movies evah ,  ”Sell crazy someplace else, we’re all stocked up here.”