Sludge

So, you know that saying "Into each life some rain must fall?"  I think I'm the reverse of that--into my life some sunshine must fall.
The saying implies that life is generally happy but that some bad things inevitably must occur. But with me, it's the opposite. Life is generally crappy but inevitably some good things happen. But good things are the exception, not the rule.
I used to find some comfort in church and my crazy meds, but lately those don't seem to be doing much for me. I'm able to laugh and joke and have fun at times, but it's just a temporary distraction. I'm quickly back to feeling like I'm treading through sludge, barely able to do much beyond the absolutely needed tasks.

At least I haven't lost my biting sarcasm

Text conversation with my friend:
Me: I'm so depressed. I wish I were dead so I could have some of those rewards in the next life (I'm not suicidal. I would not hurt or kill myself. This was a reference to an earlier conversation we had had, discussing how it is often discussed at church when going through hard times, to remember that there well be rewards in the next life, which I always thought sounded like an incentive for people to commit suicide. No need to be concerned.)
Friend: Will you stop taking like that? You're freaking me out. You're not looking at your clue board as a game plan are you? (She missed the reference, I guess.)
Me: Don't worry. I'd never kill myself. Ward and Hubert would run out of food and then eat my corpse and that is too creepy for words.
Yes folks, even in the midst of great sadness, my inner smart-ass still survives and cracks dark-humored jokes.

Overheard

While sitting in the hall lobby of church, I overheard the following conversation between a dad and his two year old daughter.
Daughter: I wanna go in the hall.
Dad: We are in the hall.
Daughter: But I wanna go in the hall.
Dad: I know. We are in the hall.
Daughter: Can we go in the hall? I wanna be in the hall.
Dad: (sigh) We are already in the hall. See? We are already here. We're in the hall. Right now, we are in the hall.
Daughter: Can we go in the hall?
Dad: (sigh, no response)
Daughter: (very excited) We're in the hall!!!
Dad: I know, that's what I've been saying...
Daughter: Daddy, do you know what? We're in the hall.
Bwahaha!! Kids are hilarious sometimes. A conversation between an adult and a two year old is delightful to overhear.

I swear, I'm not an episode of "Hoarders..."

It just really looks that way at the moment bc I have to figure out where things are going to go in the new place.
But I'm still not feeling well at all, so I was barely able to do anything more than locate where a fresh set of sheet were in this mess, put them on the bed, and collapse.  I'm so exhausted from being sick and stressed and sad and grieving and having to pack and to move stuff that I can barely think straight anymore.
And poor Ward! I thought he was going to have an aneurysm or something. This poor cat was already freaking out bc Oscar is gone. He kept wanting me to hold and cuddle him ever since Thursday. Then today, when a whole ton of Mormon guys showed up to move all my stuff, Ward was totally tweaking. I had to put him in the cat carrier until the move was over and he was not happy one bit about that. And then when the move was over, he kept running around and crying the most pathetic, sad, confused meows ever. He was so miserable.  Poor stressed out kitty lost his best bud and his home all at the same time.
Once I got the bed set up, he seemed to do a bit better.  It was somewhere familiar for him and I laid down with him for a few minutes after it was set up so he could see that I was still there, too. Bed and me, his two favorite things. Well, I might actually come after food, so two of his three favorite things...
And now, more feeling horrible and ill and wishing my things would just put themselves in place so I won't have to do it whenever I feel better/have time. But at least I've got the bed set up so I have a place to lay down while I am sick.

I promise I'm right on this one...

Actual conversation I had:

Woman (to me): Ok, so Mormons can't drink what now?

Me: Alcohol, coffee, and tea.

Man (to me): And pop, right? You can't drink pop. (aside--for any of you non-Minnesota folk, pop is our term for "soda," so he was asking me if Mormons couldn't drink soda)

Me: No, that's not true. We can drink pop.

Man (looking at me like I was very, terribly, sadly misinformed): Uhhhh, no, that's true. Mormons can't drink pop.

Me (sighing inwardly): Yes, we can. Some Mormons CHOOSE not to drink pop. It's not a religious doctrine or anything.

Man (dubiously): Are you sure??

Me (sighing inwardly again): Yes...I'm sure...I am Mormon, I would hope I know what I'm talking about.

...does this happen to non-Mormons ever? Like are people going around saying, "Oh you are Catholic? You guys aren't allowed to sleep on your left side. No, that is too true.  I heard that once from a guy I knew whose sister one time lived next door to some Catholics...are you SURE you can sleep on your left side? Where did you get your information from? Are you POSITIVE?? Well, I guess..."

Trust me, people, when I tell you that I can or can't do something. I mean, not to toot my own horn or whatever, but if I'm Mormon and you're not, I think it's a safe bet that I'm probably going to know more about it than you...

Yes, I drink Coke. No, I'm not going to hell for it.

And yes, I can also wear make-up, dance, celebrate my birthday, participate in major holidays, vote Democratic, and not support Mitt Romney.

Ok, I think that about covers it.