Medz O’Clock

It’s the kinda day where I get to work a little late and leave a little early, but don’t remember anything that happened in between.  After roughly nine hours of corporate productivity, I am now in that weird space of time between getting off work and going to bed.

I really, really, REALLY don’t want to walk my dog, but mom guilt is a powerful force– even for depressed dog moms. So, I walk him. He hates walking but I make him go because it’s good for both of us. He’s smart enough to know that if he puts up a big enough fight, I’ll turn around halfway. He threw his little dog tantrum today, but I made him finish our normal route. I wonder what people think when they see me and this huge dog stomping down the street together.

I have now officially used the last of my energy and that fresh air didn’t help with shit.

I take my pants, bra, and socks off (in that order) and flop halfhazardly on my bed. The window is open so it’s nice and cool. I’d crawl under the blankets, but I cant stand getting in bed without showering. A few times I have caved and done so. But then the next morning I have to change the sheets and wash all my bedding even if i had washed it the day before. Contaminated. 

Ask all my friends, even after a long day of experimenting with drugs at a festival, they will all pass out the second we get back to the hotel, but not me. Nope. I will be taking a shower fucked up on drugs and alcohol before getting into my jammies and then pass out.

So really, I can’t fucking stand that. I get worked up at the thought of touching the sheets before showering.

That’s how I know I’m really not doing well when I don’t shower before getting in bed and today might be one of those days.

Not only do I feel like the gravitational pull on my body is getting stronger by the minute, I just know that if I do miraculously get up to take a shower, I will end up sitting on the floor of the shower. The shower is my favorite place to just go MIA from reality.

We’re not even talking about nice bubble baths on a good self-care day. We’re talking just sitting on the floor of the shower like an old wet mop.

It all starts when I tell myself a little lie when shaving my legs: “I’ll just sit for a second to shave my legs more easily and get back up!”

Rookie mistake.

I can’t tell you how long I sit there because I honestly don’t know. This is why it is helpful for me to live somewhere with a shitty water heater. Unfortunately, this is a brand new water heater. I got it the week I moved in. This fucking water stays hot for obnoxiously long periods of time.

My saving grace is typically the alarm on my phone that goes off at 7 pm everyday to remind me to take my Zoloft. Wether I am home alone or in front of a group of people, when that 7pm alarm goes off I always shout “MEDZ O’CLOCK.”  It’s become my little bit for the sitcom that is my life.

But again, today is just one of those days where I might have to get under the covers without showering. My time to shine for my medz o’clock bit is in ten minutes. 

This leaves me with few options:

A. Get up right this second and get in the shower immediately. You will have to be determined to take the best 10 minute shower or else you’ll turn off your alarm and stay in the shower and then forget to take your meds.

B. Take a shower after your alarm because you don’t have the strength to get up in time for scenario A to potentially workout for you and this way you will at least ensure that you take your meds… But if you’re taking meds, why the fuck is taking a shower so complicated?!

C. Skip the whole shower idea because you still haven’t eaten and dinner is more important. Take the strength you were planning to use to shower and allocate it into making a quesadilla with jalapeños. 


D. Keep laying there feeling gross.

In a perfect world, I would be married to Megan Thee Stallion. She loves me all the time, not just when I’m manic. She knows what I need when I’m like this. After a long day of doing hot girl shit, she picks me up Taco Bell on her way home. She’s not mad I didn’t do the dishes like she asked me to before she went to work in the morning. She brings me my Taco Bell in bed. She didn’t forget the Diablo sauce because she truly and honestly loves me. After eating my body weight in Taco Bell, she lets me be little spoon even though I’m gross.

It’s a major bummer that this is not a perfect world. I’m going to have to go with D since my medz o’clock bit happened five minutes ago and I haven’t gotten up to take meds, or shower, or eat.

Tomorrow will be better.

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