Twitchy McGillicutty

You know the saying, “when the going get tough, the tough get going?”  Well, in our house, it’s more like “…the tough get twitchy.”

I remember my first stress-induced eye twitch like it was yesterday.  It was the end of Spring Break my junior year in college, and I’d just picked Kristina up at her sister’s house to drive us back to school.  My junior year was the worst — I decided it was a good idea to finish all my required coursework that year so that I could relax and take random electives my senior year.  It seemed like a good idea at the time (and my senior year was awesome) but I paid for it dearly.

My eye started twitching in the car on the way back to campus — and it didn’t stop until finals were over.  Seriously, it twitched all day, every day for months.  I wanted to stab. myself. in. the. face.

Ever since then, it’s been a recurring side effect in times of stress.

Senior year, getting ready to graduate and can’t find a job?! Twitching.
Finally found a job, and hate it?! Twitch-twitch-twitch.
Found a new job, but that’s terrible too?!  You guessed it.  Twitchy Magoo over here.
Got laid off, and have to pay for a wedding?!  Super-duper twitchfest.
Buying a new house, and moving two months after that wedding, while working at another job you hate — but had to take to pay for a wedding and a house?!  OMG, twitch.

Anyway.  A lot of things have been going on around here lately — I’m surprised it’s taken my old twitchy friend nemesis so long to show up — like:

1) Making babies.  Except that, we’re not.  The good news? Mike’s tests are all finished, and he’s in good shape — you know — sperm-wise. So that’s one less thing we need to worry about.  I have a few more tests to get through, but they should be wrapped up by the beginning of July.   But then who knows what’s going to happen?!  I want some babies, damn it!

2) Big, fat, fatty.  Remember how I lost 20 pounds, and was awesome?  Yeah.  About that.  I’m off the wagon.  My knees are killing me, making going to the gym near impossible.  And I want to eat everything.  I need to get myself in check, like yesterday.  And my hormones are off the chart (see #1) so all I want to do is nap, and cry at random intervals.  Also, bring me some chocolate.

3) Our swimming pool is basically a pond.  Our vacuum line is broken, so we could never really clean it after opening it — and then the algae moved in.  And that shit is hard to get rid of, you know, when you can’t clean the pool.  Our pool guy took weeks to get back to us, so we’ve been trying everything we can think of to remedy the situation — mainly because we’re planning a Fourth of July BBQ in a little more than a week, and we know the only reason people are coming is for the pool.  They can see us whenever.  And nobody wants to swim in this:

4) I’m losing my job.  It’s kind of a long story, that I don’t really feel like telling — but essentially, I’ve been told I’m being replaced, effective immediately.  Not because of performance, everybody loves me, yada yada yada.  So, I have a job until they find a replacement (I know, I know, no one can ever replace you, Ashley…) or until the end of September — whichever comes first.

Since I’ve been unemployed once before in the current job market, and a lot of my friends and former co-workers are still unemployed, I’m not too confident I’m going to find something doing what I want to do, where I want to do it, for the amount of money I’m willing to do it for. But we’ll see, I guess.  Stranger things have happened.

Sometimes I’m super optimistic about it.  Like, maybe I can try to do something for rizzle with my Etsy shop?  But then I remember I don’t know how to do that, and that sounds like a lot of work, and maybe I’ll just do the laundry and watch old episodes of Oprah instead.

Last time I was funemployed, I was pretty productive.  I started working out again, I planned our entire wedding, I completely redid the kitchen at our old house, and organized our basement and home office in the six months I was looking for a job.  There are still a lot of projects to tackle at our new house.  I’d make it happen.

I told Mike if I do find myself unemployed (again) I’ll be the best housewife the world has ever seen.  I’ll make June Cleaver look like those crazy bitches on Hoarders.  I’ll clip coupons!  We’ll only need one car! I’ll do things like, dust! (Stop laughing, mother.)  I already have a new system devised for the laundry! Dinner?  On the table, waiting for you, darling!  Our house would be a domestic paradise.  I will set feminism back 50 years!

Also, I have an adorable apron that I never get to wear.  And I think I have some pearls somewhere.

I think that could be a good look for me.


One thought on “Twitchy McGillicutty

  1. Pingback: Squirrel-Face & Cheese-Mouth | Spite or Flight

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