After my inexplicable demon possession on Friday and subsequent rectal exorcism I am now sufficiently medicated, rested, and in a more mature frame of mind. I must retract my verbal crucifixion I angrily inflicted on my semi-innocent spouse. I have trust issues transforming me into an explosive homunculus when faced with real or self-created abandonment. It is unfortunate that I cannot delete this misfiring signal of raging nihilism, but it remains in hibernation until the next time it burrows its way forward, a tapeworm feasting on irrationality.
After the manic barrage of hysteria is exhausted, the equally demented release of laughter begins. I extract his cell phone from his coat and see he has not listened to the overwrought curse laden call I had made. I listen and laugh after his polite please leave a message, I commence my tirade “You want a message here’s your message, you’re a ###### @@@@@” I continue with my blood pressure soaring – diatribe alternately huffing and puffing as I schlep through the snow. It was funny a nasally whine infused voicemail with what I imagine Marge Simpson’s sister Selma sounded like in the throes of passion with Sideshow Bob.
By the next morning all is past except my husband’s wish for the now deleted voicemail. It would have been played for years, a running loop of, The Day The Oompa Loompa Erupted. I am fine with that erasure. I am also fine with my grand mal hissy fit. A dramatic diva presentation, was beautifully choreographed, over the sidewalks and pseudo-mountains, sung in native Greenvillian The 2011 Snow Follies.
After the manic barrage of hysteria is exhausted, the equally demented release of laughter begins. I extract his cell phone from his coat and see he has not listened to the overwrought curse laden call I had made. I listen and laugh after his polite please leave a message, I commence my tirade “You want a message here’s your message, you’re a ###### @@@@@” I continue with my blood pressure soaring – diatribe alternately huffing and puffing as I schlep through the snow. It was funny a nasally whine infused voicemail with what I imagine Marge Simpson’s sister Selma sounded like in the throes of passion with Sideshow Bob.
By the next morning all is past except my husband’s wish for the now deleted voicemail. It would have been played for years, a running loop of, The Day The Oompa Loompa Erupted. I am fine with that erasure. I am also fine with my grand mal hissy fit. A dramatic diva presentation, was beautifully choreographed, over the sidewalks and pseudo-mountains, sung in native Greenvillian The 2011 Snow Follies.
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Anger, humor, love, sadness, truimph, big emotions = Living
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