I’ve forgotten something really important. I need more fun in my life.
I’ve been on a jihad against clutter and disorder
. I feel like I can’t function until all my shit is where it is supposed to be. Order calms me and helps me function.
I’ve been home with the children for two weeks of our ten week summer. During that time I have picked up the house incessantly, cleaned out superfluous shit in my closet and theirs five times, have photographed my fine china to put it up for sale on Craig’s List after deciding that it simply had to go and was not part of my current lifestyle. (Gold-rimmed plates that aren’t supposed to be cleaned in the dishwasher? WTF was I thinking when I was 24 years old?) Of course I have this nagging feeling that if I actually organized my shit and put it away in the place I wanted it all to be, I would just spontaneously combust and drop dead. I will have fulfilled any meaningful purpose of my unremarkable life and *poof*, cease to be.I just can’t get to my comfort spot on this deal. I should be on top of the world. I don’t have to start looking for a job for a few more months. It is summer. The children are doing relatively well. My boobs don’t have cancer
. My Agent is still shopping my book
. I should be content. Is it the blah’s? Is it hormones? I talk to friends often and we do stuff frequently. The kids and I do things together like go to the zoo and the pool. Then it hit me. Despite my best efforts to get 1,000 things accomplished per day and only being able to get 8-9 completed with any satisfaction, I realized I needed to change my perspective. What I was lacking was a dedication to fun. It’s not depression. It’s Fun Deficit Disorder
. I thought I was there, but I am obviously not there if I’m still don’t feel like I’m having it. You know people who never have it. They are dour and unpleasant. They are boring and you want to smack them on the ass and run into the next room just to mess with them. You want invite them to dinner and give them three spoons instead of a spoon, a fork and a knife so you can watch them implode.
I hereby declare that I need more Trey Parker and Matt Stone. I need more South Park and less Law & Order in my life. I need more Cults. Let there be Brickhouse Now! Cheetos and hand jobs for all my men!