I have discovered something even better than masturbation.
Oh. Heh. Um. Let’s go back.
Avitable is adamant that I need to find time to masturbate.
Wait. Um. Perhaps we should go back a little further…
I’ve been stressed lately. Really. Really stressed. The muscles in my back and neck are permanently tense. My teeth are quickly becoming little nubs from the constant jaw clenching and teeth grinding. Over the last couple of days, I’ve felt the wave of anger and resentment swell up inside my chest to the point that at times it is difficult to breathe.
I’m not really sure why. I know it isn’t hormones. I know I have a laundry list of things I want to kill my husband for at the moment. But I don’t know why, exactly, the panic levels get so overwhelming.
I called Avitable last night and begged him to talk me off the ledge.
He suggested I masturbate. A smarter person would have first suggested I put down the sharp objects. Sometimes I think he’s just trying to prove that he really does have a penis.
Anyway, I quickly reminded him that I am never alone. Ever. In fact, I have not yet been alone in the new house for more than 15 minutes. And that was twice now. Thirty whole minutes of all by myself time. He of course began plotting various elaborate plans that would allow for me to find the time to… well… y’know. Obviously, they were mainly ridiculous and impossible and mostly ended with him listening outside a bathroom door.
But I digress.
This morning I found myself once again resisting the urge to kill someone.
I was breathing. In, out. In, hold, pheeeeeeeeeeeeew. Nope – still want to slap my husband.
I’m counting. I’m counting. 1…. 2…. 3-MOM! Wahhhh, I don’t WANNA WEAR A WHITE SHIRT!!
My breathing became less Yoga Ohm and more Transition Labor Hee Hee Heeeeeeee.
By the time I got in my car to begin the commute I was close to – well, I’m not sure what I was close to. Tears. Screaming. Homicidal road rage. Whatever it was, it was bad. Very bad.
And then I tried a new method. I put the e-brake on and the top down. I spent five minutes setting my iPod to the Prince play list and syncing it up with the stereo. I put my head back, lit a cigarette, and decided I’d call my mom at lunch instead. I need this time.
And I drove.
I blared Little Red Corvette and sang along at the top of my lungs, as a I darted in and out of traffic. I turned off the air and enjoyed the cool wind whip my hair and cool my arms. I must have turned the stereo up 10 times on the 45 minute drive in.
Within five minutes I felt the muscles in my face relax for the first time in hours. Days maybe. My breaths were deeper, and I could actually feel the oxygen getting all the way down into my lungs.
It felt so good. Soooo good. I know this is ridiculous, but I wonder what the hell I would do if I hadn’t bought that car. I can’t think of anything else right now that is able to soothe me, to actually relax me and shut down my brain, even for just 45 minutes.
Thank God for convertibles and Prince. And a morning commute.