Anything Lime



My annual downward spiral into a world of self-pity

I know there’s a complex explanation as to why I cry when I see Marlee Matlin get a bad score on “Dancing with the Stars.” Doesn’t anyone realize how hard the Samba is? How is she supposed to have perfect rhythm when she can’t hear the music? ISN’T THIS DEVASTATING TO ANYONE ELSE?!

I just wish I could be happy while Patrick is gone.

He’s a little more than halfway through his two-week trip to North and South Carolina for golf tournaments. But even though I haven’t seen in him in eight days and will have to wait six more, that’s no reason to go into a fit of despair each and every time I turn the corner in my apartment too sharp and bump my shoulder on the door frame.

It’s strange, almost unreal how happy I am whenever he is around. And, while I know I shouldn’t ever be in a position to rely on another person for happiness, I’m in a rut. I wake up each morning and make a conscious decision to smile. I spend a lot of time outside trying to soak up the sun and energize like Superman.

Everything is different when he’s gone. Even my grocery list changes from the normal “eggs, milk, bread,” to “chocolate, cheese balls, candies, treats, chocolate.” And, I was elbow-deep in a carton of dulce de leche ice cream when I began theorizing as to why it is people fall in love.

The term “my better half” is overused, yet quite insightful. I think we’re attracted to people who possess, in great amounts, the characteristics we admire about ourselves. Being around such people brings out the best in ourselves. By the way, dulce de leche = quite superb.

Since he’s been gone, I’ve undergone a transformation from an independent (so I thought) woman to a lazy, ice-cream devouring, movie-watching crazy person who cries when she sees a mother duck and her ducklings enjoying an afternoon swim. But it’s just so beautiful!

The waiting continues. Six days and counting.

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