Rainy Days and Mondays...

Summer is coming on very slowly for me, in more ways than one, this year.

The weather has been less than seasonal so far. I mean, it's the last day of June and I am puttering around my house in a sweatshirt and long pants. It really isn't acting like Summer.

My mood is having the same un-seasonality. Yes, that is my very own term. Un-seasonality; n. Behaving in an abnormal fashion based on time of year. See: Bi-polar swing.

I'm starting to understand the dramatic references made in the media about people with this disorder railing against their meds. They are helpful to me to counteract the lows... and I can get a whole lot worse than I've been, without them... but when the up-swing fails to arrive on schedule... you really have to weigh the pros and cons of medicating. 

I should be just about at the top of my roller coaster right about now... full of energy and projects and badness... and I got nuthin'. I could easily lie down right now and go to sleep. I didn't get up until 10:30 this morning and sat on my arse for most of the day. I can't get out of my own friggen way!

...even that exclamation point was an effort for me.

We have had my hubs' brother and sister-in-law staying with us over the past week... and again this coming weekend for four days. 

Have I mentioned I'm not good at company?

I'm not good at company for any more than 24 hours. 36 would be my dead max. That pretty much drains me until Spring... from Christmas. They were here Sunday, Monday and left on Tuesday. My husband flew out to Newfoundland Monday morning and left me with them. It isn't anything against them as people... they are perfectly lovely people... but my home is my bubble. This is like having something living under my skin and not being able to get it out... that's the only way I can describe it. 

I feel terrible... but it is the honest truth. They are coming back on Thursday and will be here until Monday. Again, my husband is leaving on Sunday... I am dreading it like dental surgery. They have generously offered to (well, they are insisting that they) take us out to dinner at a restaurant I know to be rather pricey. I'd really rather not go. I have to go... but honestly, I'd forego the lobster feed for a Saturday night in my bubble without company. 

I know that I am the broken one.

I know my hubby does not understand... though god love him, he is trying... but he can't possibly get it... it isn't a normal, sane thing, how could he?

The saddest part of this story is that my kids are the same way... and it's my fault.

They have been so uncomfortable with the intrusion. My oldest has just come out as non-binary. My husband's brother is not known for his open mind and gentle approach to things in general. That subject in particular, hasn't been broached, but others have and scuffles have ensued. He has a tendency to call Stretch "young lady"... which makes 'them' mental... it's really only a matter of time before a meltdown. I have no doubt I will wind up talking Stretch back down to Earth at some point over those four days.

I wish I was better at this. It is so important for my hubby to have this connection. He's been deprived of familial connection for a good part of his adult life. It's certainly long overdue. I just really wish I could digest and metabolize the assault to my senses better.

It is an enormous amount of work, though... hosting people in your home. It seems like it's always time for people to eat. By the time I finish cleaning up one, it's time to consider the next meal. Plus running a household around company, while trying to hide the fact that you are running a household is exhausting! I guess it isn't totally crazy that I'm toasted this weekend... and with the weather all dark and drippy... I guess it isn't any wonder that I'm wandering around like Eeyore on Percocet. 

I'm not looking forward to next weekend for any reason other than to get it over with. 

Ugh. 

I really wish I was better than this.