His name is Costanza, and he killed my mother.

I’m so scattered today I’m annoying myself.  I think it’s time to accept I’m living life on a 30-second-delay.  I’m always going to feel like I’m running behind, and there’s not enough time in a day.  While I struggle to keep up, I’ll stop berating myself for existing at my own pace.  I don’t need the added pressure.  Done.  I’m having a lazy day, but accomplishing lots at the same time.  I do lazy wrong.  I’m multitasking, kind of.  I have South Park on in the background, laundry is going, and I’m ready to run the dishwasher.  I’ve cleaned everything in my bathroom but the tub/shower.  I clean the tub naked.  It’s super efficient.  First, I wet everything down, including myself, then I use two Mr. Clean sponges to scrub every inch of the tub and enclosure, followed by soaping up and washing my body, then rinsing everything off.

This is a slight twist on living in old barracks with community latrines.  I used to do this in my PT uniform after the morning run.  Cleaning as you go is brilliant for people who don’t like cleaning.  My cleaning playlist makes it fun.  Others have assumed I became a clean freak while serving in the military, but it’s due to my Mom making cleaning a privilege when I was little.  I got to hang out with my Mom and help her clean.  Being helpful was a huge source of my self-esteem as a kid.  My Mom knew what she was about.

I feel like witnessing my parents’ exceptional parenting skills was wasted on me since I don’t have children, sometimes.  I absolutely feel guilty about not having them, even though it’s for multiple valid reasons:  I’m physically incapable of carrying a child, and the only reason I don’t have a dog or five is they would likely die in my care.  I hate that this is the case, but I won’t risk a dog’s life over it.  Instead, I got a cat.  She has no problem getting my attention for her slightest need.  She won’t starve when I hyperfocus on my work, she’ll interrupt by smacking me with her cute little paw until I snap out of it.  When people tell me I should adopt, I remind them why I don’t have a dog.

I’m good with kids and infants.  I know how to care for their needs and protect them from harm.  When I babysit, I spend the entire time engaged with the kid(s).  I can’t focus on anything else while they’re under my protection.  I just play with them and laugh really hard inside at their antics.  Kids are honest by default, so spending time with them thickens your skin in a sustainable way.  If you find your feelings are constantly being hurt by your peers, you’re not spending enough time with young kids.  Five-year-olds fascinate me.  Something about humans who have lived for five years makes them precociously wise for a year.  The next time you need advice on a relationship, ask a five-year-old what they think you should do.  You’re welcome.

My arms hurt today.  It feels like the pain is in my bones.  I probably slept funny.  I have a new mattress arriving next week.  It’s a hybrid with coils and memory foam.  I’m confident it’ll be comfortable.  Naming a mattress Breeze does not make it cooler.  I’m fed up with waking up drenched in sweat each night.  My doctor laughed at me when I asked if the sweats might mean I’m about done with periods.  No would have sufficed.  I read somewhere if you start late you end early.  Apparently, early isn’t yet.  Dammit.

I’m dissatisfied with a few things that go with being a woman.  Menstruation is certainly one of them.  The perpetual physical vulnerability is another.  They equally suck in my opinion.  I feel whiny about this because I know it’s likely temporary.  Soon, humans will alter their bodies to represent how they see themselves.  We do this now, but I mean in new and exciting ways.  I want my Eyes 2.0 with EPIC-HD and a powerful gaming computer embedded, please.  I’ve never felt like other than female, but I also don’t do anything traditional to highlight the fact.  I insist others accept me as definitively pistillate because of logic.  I have no problem with using the pronouns others prefer.  I don’t know what it feels like to live in a body that doesn’t match my natural gender.  I imagine it would feel awful.  The least I can do is be respectful of those who endure terrible circumstances.  Meet the Parents is on.  I first saw this movie in the theater with my Mom, and I still have strong memories of her laughing hard throughout the film.  Now watching it is like getting a hug from my Mom.  I’m off to watch.