You’re having a good day. O.K. Not good, but not bad. It’s going. You’re trying to work that Zen-Phil-Jackson state of being for your New Year’s resolution or just because it’s a Monday and then there it is…the burn.
It’s the extra comment, that look, that attitude, that smacking of the lips that shoved you directly into Bitchville. It irritates, aggravates, exacerbates…it burns. Someone changes your state of being and you got that eye roll going. You take a deep breath in exasperation, but the frustration isn’t washed over. The Joe Pesci in you wants to come out.
Spouses, mother, mother-in-laws, professors, neighbors, customer service agents…they all have the power to burn you out, however, all in all no one does it better than family, especially when you live with them. And that’s where I find myself today. Due to technical difficulties beyond my control I’m currently residing at mom’s. The person who calls you a lazy-ass because you don’t wake up at 5 a.m. to do laundry. But you fell asleep at 4 a.m. because your five-month old kid kept you up all night. Semantics. She used to walk five miles with no shoes to the nearest river carrying two younger brothers and three bags of laundry before the sun was up, why was I complaining?
Lazy-ass.
In English it doesn’t sound as bad, but Spanish tends to intensify matters. Serota Huevona. I used to think that was my name. Things sound much more hostile in another language. Terms of endearment with a little sass, I guess. It’s temporary…I tell myself it’s temporary, just like purgatory. And on day two, this is where the adventure begins…
You wish Oprah was still on the air to help you through it, but since she’s not, I’ll need plenty of Neosporin for all the burns. Giddy up!
The Wish Factor 