An Ode to Joy

Written November 2012, the day after the election. Unfinished, but I decided to post it anyway.

Today was a good day. It started out with me oversleeping.  Then I drove my car into a ditch.  Then I barely made it to an event where most of the attendees looked and acted like parolees.  Then I treat myself to a nice lunch, only to receive an email asking me to make a return trip to the hell I left behind.  Then I got back to my car and discovered a ticket.

Then I look at on Facebook page and learn that some of my acquaintances were none too happy about the election results.  One person was downright petulant about her disappointment.  It inspired me to write a piece that I want to post over at the Busy Black Woman blog as soon as I finish my venting here.

The husband returned from Chicago, so I suggested to my Mom that we should pick him up and then stop by the Newseum to see the front page newspapers from all over the country.  She was enthusiastic and went upstairs to change into warmer clothes.  For a whole hour.  When she returned, she had changed into clothes more suitable for warmer weather.  And when I suggested that she might need to change back into something heavier, I got the usual "I'm-fine-because-I'm-in-denial-about-everything" response, so I dropped it.

The husband responds to my parking ticket with his version of righteous indignation--I was reckless in making the mistake to take Metro when there is no downtown street parking.  So I recklessly parked the car in front of the federal courthouse in the spaces reserved for the U.S. Marshals and recklessly threw him the keys for him to find a more suitable spot and then recklessly escorted my inappropriately dressed mother down to the Newseum to see the newspaper headlines.  Then I guess it was reckless of me to insist that I would continue to take photos despite her complaints about the cold since she had on her summer pants in 30 degree temperatures. 

And I guess my recklessness is to blame for everything from that stupid parking ticket to the intentional efforts by some newspapers to ignore the election results.

Why me? Why me? Why me?  Not asking that question about any of the other crappy stuff that ruined my day, but why me when it comes to dealing with this very ugly, selfish, and completely unreasonable side of dementia?  Why is it that no matter what I do, I always get this nasty back-handed slap upside my head to remind me that I am fat, that I am awkward, that I am always late, that I am a bad driver, and that I occasionally make mistakes?

Why?  Does anyone fucking understand why this sucks?  How hard it is to try and fail every single time because there is this invisible force that is determined to cause chaos and confusion?  And instead of being able to pick a fight to hash it all out, I am supposed to keep swallowing the bitter pill with no one really giving a shit about the bad taste it leaves in my soul.