Friday, March 26, 2010
This shit was NOT listed on the side of the bottleSo for the last 2 weeks, I've been adjusting to my 3rd brain-chemical-leveling medication and this one seems to be working except for one MAJOR side effect - it has turned me into June Fucking Cleaver.
As I type this, I'm wearing a dress. A dress. Why? Am I going to a wedding? Or funeral? Or job interview? No. I'm just wearing a damn dress.
And over that dress? I'm wearing an apron. A damn apron?
And in the kitchen? A batch of homemade pretzels is rising and a new recipe for chocolate chip cookies is cooling.
And my living room? Spotless.
My front yard? Weedless.
My bathroom? Soap-scum-less.
My damn legs? Hairless.
I spend every day cleaning the house. I can't even walk out the door if there are dirty dishes in the sink.
And don't even ask me how many loads of laundry I've fluffed and folded lately.
If you know me, you know all of this is in sharp contrast with my personality.
Are we treating depression or turning me into a Stepford chick? If I buy a string of pearls or talk about voting Republican, somebody better stage an intervention.