There has been a change in my life recently. I have started taking care of myself. I mean really, truly, taking care of myself. I can take care of everybody else, classic middle child, but when it came to me, not so much.
This is new to me.
Until last week, literally, I have been waiting for the ever elusive prince charming/daddy/lottery/whatever, to come in and do the most very basic task we humans have. Taking care of me.
Last week, after a particularly bad day, at a particularly bad job, I decided enough was enough. I am finally going to get my shit together. Luckily, the universe is here for me, and I am able to take some time off of work.
Task one. Get a bed. My mattress and box springs have resided on the floor for over four years now. Like I’m in college. I guess this means I’ve graduated. I have been oohing and awwing over this bed for more than two years. Spend the damned $263 and get it already.
Task two. Upgrade the washer. Again, the universe was nice enough to provide me with a rental that included a washer and dryer. For two and a half years I have DREADED laundry. The craigslist discard always sounded like a combination of mating cats, and Star Wars blaster guns. I’m having flashbacks just thinking about it. For the low, low price of $60 FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE, I was able to get some pretty blinged out pieces of machinery. When I got home, I noticed the guy had charged me $881 of property insurance and extended warranty I did not agree to. Sure it was spelled out for me, but with all the “oh just sign this” and the “oh, I took that off” and blah blah blah, I missed it. Before I would fret and cry and scream that life isn’t fair, today, I marched into the store and called bullshit. That will buy a really pretty appliance should one break outside of the two year warranty I already have. Plus, it was financed at the low low price of my first born child, so I guess I can keep her too.
Task three. Stop pretending you have a staff. You don’t. Nobody is coming to put your dishes away, sweep your kitchen, or vacuum the stairs. Quit whining already and grow the fuck up.
Task four. Fix up the brokenness. I have a kid with special needs. One of those needs is kicking holes in the sheetrock. I have pretended for two years that there isn’t any use whatsoever in fixing them. Practically, maybe not, but psychologically, I feel like I’m in control of the situation for the first time in a long time.
This is four steps forward, and I’m guessing there will be a step back here and there. The big shift is that I actually feel empowered to do something about me now.
Now I must go do some dope shit.