Have you guys noticed how fucking lame I’ve been lately? You totally have. The problem is twofold.
(1) I was trying to drink less beer, not because I think drinking less beer is somehow meritorious or because I think there’s anything wrong with drinking beer. It’s because the other day I was hungover as shit after drinking for like 8 hours in the burning hot sun and I realized that we spend a shitton money on beer and money being tight and all that’s maybe not such a good idea. There is a slight correlation between being bored and boring and not drinking beer.
(2) I am operating on a serious fun deficit. Here is a conversation that occurred yesterday:
Me: (enthusiastically) What fun stuff are we going to do this long weekend?
Ben: Well . . . I have to change the oil in our cars.
Then I got mad accused Ben of killing fun. Here’s the thing. When you’re me, a person with ADHD and a shoddy work ethic, it’s always a stellar idea to enter into a serious relationship with someone like Ben who builds chicken coops with his bare hands and does crazy shit like clean behind the stove and refrigerator once or twice a year. He cleans windows and furnace filters and gutters. He cleans things I don’t even know exist. He brings the Christmas decorations up from the basement without complaining. (One of my major childhood memories is of how pissed off my dad (who is awesome) always got when he had to bring out the Christmas decorations.) The problem with these types, though, is that they’re really, really good at getting shit done, which is awesome because you’re totally not good at that, but they’re not always good at being an active participant in the process of having fun.
I just said “active participant in the process of having fun” and I hate myself.
Then I became filled with rage, as I am wont to do when I perceive I have been wronged.
Here’s where I get all “OMG MY LIFE IS SO HARD” and you wait for me to start writing for Babble and suck at life. I do a lot of shit. I have a full-time job and I work out a lot and I do a reasonable job of contributing around the house and feeding animals and shit and I even tried to sell some old crap I don’t use any more on Ebay and honestly I think that failed endeavor ended up costing me money. And I spend a lot of time lately solo parenting while Ben is working extra hours and doing school shit and sometimes I get to the point where I’m like holy fuck if I have to do one more load of laundry or fill the dog and cat water one more time I’m going to lose it. And I’m not going to lose it, but sometimes I just get all overwhelmed. I think this is something that happens when you have ADHD. Like, I can’t handle it when multiple things are coming at me at the same time. For example, when we were living in Nederland and I couldn’t find a job I wanted, I took a job as a receptionist at a busy humane society/veterinary clinic and it was all people coming in and phones ringing and dogs and euthanasia and somebody needs this and after like three long-ass days I just quit. And sometimes when I’m at home and I see that Peaches drank all the cat water and I have to unload the dishwasher and work on the grocery list and think about what we might want to have for dinner next week and Soren is going “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Watch this!” I want to go home to my house in Nederland, which of course is no longer my house, and drink beer, sleep ’til noon, and stay up all night staring at the stars. And I can’t do that, so for a while I feel like a sad robot, if robots could be sad, and walk around the house lifelessly folding laundry and making smoothies and giving the chickens some kale.
I’ve always kind of felt like a loser for considering fun to be so important. I mean, we have shit to do and don’t always have time for fun. But here’s what I’ve realized. Having fun is as important as changing the oil in your car. It’s as important as folding the laundry or vacuuming the hairballs behind the refrigerator. It’s probably a little less important than filling the cat water, but it’s more important than a lot of the shit we spend our days worrying about. You need fun because if you don’t have it, you operate on a fun deficit and then turn into a boring-ass robot. And nobody wants that.
And the good news is Ben knows I’m mad at him for killing fun, so I suspect he’s going to offer something better to do this weekend than change oil. I’ll keep you posted.