Tomorrow the sign in my window shall read:

Explainer:

I am at the end of my mental rope. I know I will be better tomorrow after lots of sleep and even more mind-altering substances but right now, I feel like an old used shoe, missing its mate so useless and discarded in a corner. And its all my fault. I didn't see this coming; let this serve as a cautionary tale for others.

Here is how it happens. First the caregiver/SO has an urge to do "one last" this or that with several of your closest acquaintances, perhaps with food and all intents are for this to be a stress-free afternoon for you, one of remembrances, telling tales of old and so on. You know what I am talking about. The error has already happened but now it gets compounded because you and your caregiver work out who is coming by who you are most comfortable with; it only makes sense (as most master-decisions do just before the Eagle of Reality shits all over your plans) but heres the catch, the gotcha, the iceberg that takes down the ship: you evaluate all these potential people based on how you are with them normally but normally, its just you and them and they are almost forced to talk down to your level and speed. This good friend would do it anyways but when its you and him/her the conversation just adapts itself to something you are comfortable with, something you can process and get something out of.

The problem comes early, as most problems do, when even 2-3 of these friends show up; they adapt to the conversation which in this case is (for example) 4-5 rapidly talking adults, with topics juggling between politics, television, the cost of living or all three in the same sentence, and as these friends (everyone not named YOU) get more into it, the conversation feels like standing next to a tornado and you just don't dare stick your toe in. And the longer it goes, the longer you are quiet, the longer they feel the need to "fill the silence" and the problem exacerbates from there. If you make it to the end of the afternoon, you are toast from trying to keep up, like trying to keep up with a running car while jogging....for 4 hours straight...I was almost w/o speech.

Everyone is gone. Everyone meant well. Everyone about killed me today. So tomorrow, everyone can kiss my Italian ass. If anyone wants me for anything, see the sign above....

Just sayin'

Jeff

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