It’s been a wretched year, a year that made me ponder what gouging out my own eyes would feel like. Then I thought about the poor girl who really did that while high on meth and I’ve instead opted to scratch at my scalp psoriasis all day, every day. Scratch, scratch, pick, pick until little scabs form a constellation.
I should have known something was amiss on New Year’s Eve. I voluntarily stayed home on New Year’s Eve and with that unbelievable act, my existence was soon to be spit on. A lifelong pursuit of partying, irreverent conversations, and fancy frocks would explode right into my eybrowless face. 2020 started with my 8th nervous breakdown and just kept descending lower than The Chainsmokers’ talent level.
To think that in January my biggest source of anxiety was that I was on my hundredth new job because job switching was my rebellious protest to the world — for no reason. My eff you to, well myself, I suppose. Gosh I long for the days when I had to create problems just to keep life interesting. Sigh.
Oh 2020, you boyfriend with the awful breath, chiseled cheekbones, and tacky mom — you will NEVER get much better. You show glimpses of humanity, like a surprise Taylor Swift album, the fun and public mocking of Kelly Ripa, the creativity of Hulu’s Palm Springs, and watching all the Chads and Karens hemorrhage over Cardi B. and Megan Thee Stallion’s WAP video, but you will NEVER get much better.
But the pandemic was kind of fun for a bit, wasn’t it? It felt like dabbling with a hobby for a spell. I baked bread, gave away junk, went on HIKES, dyed my eyebrows and thought that this too shall pass.
But I’ve now been home for too long. I don’t even know where anything is around here because I never put anything away. At home, I spend 1/4 of my time searching for what I just put down. The other 3/4 is spent in the following order:
- Worrying about work.
- Checking Facebook only to want to unfriend a slew of “friends”.
- Scrolling through Twitter and having Twitter wars with Bishop Tobin, Dorinda Medley, and Sean Spicer.
- Saying aloud, “I just can’t believe this is happening!”
- Itching my scalp.
- Staring out of my window.
- Becoming way too excited for Housewives of NYC episodes.
Until next time, pals, Now go watch WAP and let me know what you think about it.