March 6, 2004
AN EVEN KEEL
Spring is in the air, fellow apostates, and that means yard work, and sweaty hours hunkered over recalcitrant weed-whackers and lawnmowers. New blasphemies coined for the latest domestic problem. And I am ready? Hark:
Last year's growing season was a bust for Velociman. I was in a blue funk, suffering from some twisted confluence of depression, and clinical fuckall. I let my yard go to seed, and allowed it be be devoured by webworms, and moles. I've always had beautiful lawns, and taken pride in my skills, but I went underground last year, and pouted about issues unresolved.
I wish I could say that bout of depression was consigned to my yardwork, but it was a deeper, more challenging problem. Verily, folks, I could barely lift spoon to mouth. A cursory scroll through the Archives will bear witness to my, for want of a better word, miasma.
Regardez: I just felt like taking the Big Sleep, and saw nothing gainsayed by toiling in the bullshit known as my yard. I figured fuck it, it's repititous crap, unworthy of my attention.
I'd love to assign a Name, or Symptom, to my ennui. I wasn't bipolar, because there was no Mania to my Depression. I was seriously disturbed, however, by any estimation. Blogging like a fool, and shuttering the metaphorical plantation blinds on the Real World simultaneously.
Now I feel much better. I have no idea why. Perhaps my morning cuppa is more congruous to my needs, perhaps I see more value in my career, esp. as an emollient to making my children Whole.
Who knows? I was offered medication by my doc, way back when, and tried it, but that was no answer.
I'm tight with my doctor, though, and that's critical. She's wonderful. A tough, hard-nosed gal, my age, who will look me in the eye and say: what is your problem, asshat? She'll cup my balls in her hand, make me cough, and search my eyes for Issues. That is not only fair in a physician, it's de rigeur, in my opinion.
She couldn't answer for my blues, however. They were just There.
I'm excited about the new spring, though. I feel this is the season of rebirth, and huge stuff.
I've already had my Chemicals Guy dose the yard, and I mowed it very close. Actually, I shaved it. Like a porn star's privates. It's nice. My azaleas are blooming early, which my mother would have loved, and I've dressed up the plot where Flounder is buried.
It's going to be a great year.