Hard Times in the Land of Lah

Since there may just be someone who has crossed the borders into LahLahland, whether intentionally or not, it would seem to be simple good manners for me to explain my recent absence.
Things are tough here. Not adjusting at ALL to Dh's work schedule--it's messing w/my sleep and my already tenuous grasp on sanity, and not necessarily in that order either. It's like my whole life is suddenly on one of those slanty walk things you might see at a fair. Nothings really changed, but it's all just really slanted , so then everything has changed. Profoundly. Deep, no? Or it's like wearing someone else's glasses. I don't want to explain that one b/c I'll just mess it up, but surely you've tried on someone's glasses simply for the hilarity of it, right? Well, it's like that. Only w/o the hilarity.

It would seem (acc. to those clever internet quizzes and years of experience with the disease) that the combined crap soup of schedule/kid/dh/home stress and the crazy mother/father counselling nightmare, I have twirled myself right on down into a depressive episode. Now, I will be modest and not call it a major episode, if only because that sounds like something I'd have to plan and I just don't have it in me right now to plan anything beyond hot dogs for dinner tonight. And that's iffy right there.
This is not a new seat on the bus for me. BTDT. But if you will recall, my doc retired. Poof. Gone. Aloha. Sooo I have to try to work it out via other routes. Routes not familiar with my dysthymic terrain. Routes that don't have my records. Routes that don't know that I'm far enough down the hole to not even remember to take the red-flag- on-my-chart meds b/c they're sched. II and altho I have always respected the drug and its properties, good and bad, you know how docs get all itchy and blinky about stuff like that. Yeah. Not overmedicating. Not bothering to overmedicate. If you knew me in the 80s I will give you a moment to re-gather yourself and process that "not overmedicating" thing. There. All better? Maybe I'm just not remembering. Does it matter which?
Kids are fine, but they'd like bedtime stories instead of being hustled off like cattle. My mother is preparing for intensive electroshock therapy (see me not holding my breath for this one). Dh loves what he does and can't figure why oh why oh why I must always um...piss on his party (sorry Jenny). He thinks I should go back to work. He thinks that's a good idea. I think it's a good one, all right. I asked him who, in the event that I should go back to work, would do my job here? Oh...you know, the housework, the yardwork, the maintenance, laundry, blah blah blah. The man looked at me like I'd grown a third eye (I wonder if that would come in handy...). He really so doesn't have any idea. And don't say, "well, stop doing all that stuff and just you see...he'll get the picture mighty quick" because he won't. Nope, not a bit. He will not even know that a picture is coming around, much less get ahold of it. And I will gain only a larger variety of sticky, smelly and quite possibly congealed household situations. Also, he has conveniently forgotten that teachers work a lot. And some teachers really need to stay at school to get stuff done. Some teachers are not whizzes at the planning thing in the first place, and also don't have fax/printer/copier thingies at home. Some teachers are kinda bad about forgetting stuff and so must stay in one place so as to keep aformentioned stuff handy. And some teachers are still at work at six in the evening. All of this I have lived and he has forgotten.

So you see how it is, here in the land of Lah. Maybe it's hurricane season in these parts, I don't know. I just know that I'm feeling just a bit taut and weepy and more than just a bit exhausted. And I don't care. And that's not how Mama rolls, my friends. Not how Mama gets it done. So I need to be thinking and praying and spending time in the late-year sunlight. Oh, and Bourbon. I do need some Bourbon.