Summer lasts much too long. I’ve always thought that. But now that I’m randomly started to break down in my thirties, I’m sure of it. After a random conversation with my mother (who is the only person on the planet patient enough to listen to my whining about this for well over a year now) about my randomly swollen and super freaking itchy bottom lip (everyone likes to look like they’ve been punched) and left ring finger (just…why!?) I figured I should share all my lessons with the world.
Random Things I’ve learned:
Certain body parts are hard to itch. I’m not one of those people that can ignore an itch. And there is no itch quite like eczema. I routinely tear my skin to shreds. It’s my superpower. However, just because you’ve never had an itch to end all itches on your eyelid or lower lip or fingertip, doesn’t mean they can’t itch. They can. With the power of all the fire ants in the world. And there is literally NO good way to itch these places. When they aren’t itching I know you probably shouldn’t itch them anyway, but when things get really bad I don’t care about should and shouldn’t. I care about tearing off the itchy parts so I can sleep. Go ahead and think of all the really sensitive or oddly shaped parts of your body. Imagine all the mosquitos and fire ants had a convention on that part. And try to figure out how you’d scratch it. Then teach me.
Doctors get brutal. I have a lovely endocrinologist, sincerely. She’s wicked smart and funny. She’s an exercise nut and looks great. She has been instrumental in helping me feel like I’m finally getting on the right track with my health. I’ve been on several medications that have made me feel SO much better. However, part of what I want, and what she wants, is weight loss. This last appointment she walked in, looked at my chart, and asked how things were. I went on about how much better I felt, that my symptoms were starting to ease off a bit, that I felt like I had some control for the first time in a very long time. She nodded. Looked me dead in the eyes after I just professed my thanks to her for helping me so much. And said, “Yeah, but you haven’t lost any weight at all.” First off, rude. Second off, I was thanking you! I was right in the middle of “you’re the best!” Now, what am I supposed to do? Take that back? “You were the best until you said that, now you’re a butthole.”
No one wants to hear you whine. I mean, no one wanted to when you were a kid either. But you were too stupid to notice your parents were just tuning you out. I want to whine constantly. I want someone to put a cool washcloth on my forehead and “there there” me sometimes. Instead, now that I’m an adult, everyone wants me to use coconut oil or essential oils to cure everything. Foot hurts? Oil up that bad boy! Hair falling out? Essential oils mixed in coconut oil and left on the scalp for 352.3 hours every night will fix you right up! Entire body itching like a demon-possessed mange victim? Peppermint and eucalyptus essential oil mixed into extra virgin NON PRESSED coconut oil, mixed in a quartz bowl that has been charged by a full moon, waller around in your tub until you’re slicked up like a porpoise and frolic around without a care in the world. 1. Coconut oil doesn’t cure much of anything. At all. Sorry. 2. Essential oils stink. Again, I’m sorry, but it needed to be said. 3. Applying stinky oil to my skin does nothing but make me angry, stinky, and itchy. And also prone to slipping and breaking. I’m falling apart. The hips are going next. I just want to whine about the fact it’s impossible to adequately scratch yourself without people on the bus thinking you have a disease. Which you do. But still. You know what I’m saying here.
Now what does any of this have to do with summer? Which was my first whine of this thing? Summer = sweat and sun. I sweat like a man. It’s super attractive I’m sure, but I break a sweat real freaking quick. And fun fact, sun exposure and sweat make an itchy soul itch that much worse. I’m basically hiding inside trying to avoid sweating at all costs. In Nashville. In August. It’s impossible! Here’s to aging. It’s a blast so far.
My proof (in no particular order until the last bit):
A large crash and what sounded like paper ripping echoed through the house from the upstairs landing. I asked the child what was going on. No response. I asked with a little more heat. I got back “I’m not doing anything nothing happened I’m petting the cat that’s all no”. No punctuation was used when vocalizing it so I left it in its original format. The child was insulted when I physically checked on the very loud nothing no that happened. I couldn’t find anything broken or torn. I assume she opened a portal to another realm.
A small barrel shaped puzzle (pictured in the main image for this post) is dismantled into many pieces and an effort was made to put it back together. There was great intensity and focus. There were discussions with herself about what piece went next. Midway through the very next sentence pieces were calmly placed pieces on the floor, a blanket was pulled around the shoulders like a cape, and the child paraded out of the room on tiptoes. “I think this might go…” and she marched off. Very much like a hummingbird switching flowers. She manages a regal march for one so young.
When the father of the child said good morning before dawn what came back was (as close as I can recall…it happened quickly and it was not even 6 am) “The eye! The eye was big and did you I don’t know did you see the eye my eye what who I don’t know last night!” All of that was said in a gasping mildly angry voice. Father of the child (somehow less baffled than I) responded: “But it’s okay now, right?”. She gave a disgruntled sounding “yes” and rolled over. He wandered into the bathroom as if that was a normal encounter.
We own a whistle type of squeaker thing loud enough to wake the dead. Neither of us knew that. We don’t know where it came from. We found out we owned it because at roughly 6 am the child cornered one of the cats and when the cat didn’t follow a red dot it couldn’t follow because the child blocked its ability to move the squeaker whistles shrill hideous noise was unleashed upon us at a staggering decibel. Aware that she was probably going to be scolded she looked at her father belligerently and yelled: “NOTHING HAPPENED”. The cat and I haven’t fully recovered.
Cat contemplates alcohol while recovering from insanely loud ear blast
(This should be 5 but formatting is being a brat) The air conditioner controller thing decided to poop out of juice last night. I walked downstairs and found the temperature to be Arctic-esque. I am hot natured and it was absolutely freezing even to my internal thermostat. The batteries dying in the control apparently gave the air conditioner permission to never ever turn off. Ever. So I immediately got the unit shut down and started coffee while shivering. Tiny human walks in wearing her blanket cape and talks to herself about how cold it is. I ask if she wants cereal for breakfast and she nods yes and walks off. I get cereal assembled and wander out to find her sitting in the back room talking to herself quietly. I put the cereal down and ask if she wants a blanket. She mutters a reply too quiet for me to make out. I ask her to repeat herself. It sounds vaguely like “jacket”. I tell her I can go get a sweatshirt or jacket for her, or maybe some socks. She mutters what sounds like jacket again. I tell her I still can’t hear her. I get back “I HAVE A JACKET”. I blink. I ask her if she wants her jacket. “NO! I HAVE ALL I NEED!” She has a really deep voice for such a small female thing. Kind of like that lord of the rings scene where Galadriel is tempted but refuses the ring.
(Formatting is still bratty) Tiny human is playing a sonic the hedgehog video game out in the back room. I know exactly where she is because she is talking to herself and the game at the same time in various tones and with various mood swings. There are a lot of “WHAT THE HECK….WHAT…..WOW…..WHA….NO….YES….WHAT THE HECK”. This sort of stream of consciousness has been going on for at least 30 minutes straight. And now there are long, deep hooting noises punctuated by growls. She may be summoning a demon. I’m not going to go look. I need a ghost hunter. Or a priest.
Update (formatting is the least of my worries): After a crash out in the back room she magically appeared behind the desk to my left (I can hear her but not see her). She’s whispering something quietly and creepily, like an incantation. If I’m never seen again make sure they put a decent picture up at my funeral (don’t let my mom use my graduation picture, I have 14 chins in that one). Good luck to us all.