If it isn't already glaringly obvious from my main blog, this winter has taken a huge toll on me, psychologically. I was already knee-deep into a 2+ year mild depression stemming from all sorts of shit I don't want to go into here, and then this winter decided to pummel us day after motherfucking day with snow, cold, and gray. Always with the gray. And the shoveling. And the wind.
I know that millions of Americans have had shittacular to the nth degree weather this year, I get it. But this year I needed to not dive deeper into that angry bitch we call depression. I needed sunshine when we had a 2+ week stretch of cloudy, angry days. I needed "me" time when I ended up shoveling 3-4 times a day. I needed to hop on my bike and just...ride when we had snow so deep that one could barely walk in it.
I've always been good at (and smugly prided myself at) being able to pretty much force myself out of any psyche-wallowing that I would find myself in. I'm sardonic, sarcastic, and pretty much a smart assed know-it-all, and in the face of soul-crushing depression I always thought I could talk myself out of it.
Well, I usually could, but not this time.
I'm actually feeling a lot better these days, and my new treadmill/happy machine arrives tomorrow, so things are looking up. Mostly I just wanted you to know that things aren't always sunshine and happiness at Casa de VonPartypants.
Especially when Renaldo, my shockingly good-looking and seemingly not gay pool boy/manservant, has the week off. Man- that fucking SUCKS. I hate it when there isn't anyone to wax my bikini line and bring me fresh mojitos. Sucks.