My Nervous Breakdown

I mentioned in Sunday's blog that my yearly nervous breakdown arrived a little early this year.

As you all know, my nervous breakdown always happens during the middle of Oktoberfest. It comes just around the time I realize I'm traveling to Sauerkraut Band gigs, traveling to Community Band practices and gigs, and trying to live my regular life (whatever that means) at the same time.

It all happened a little differently this time around.

It was just a rotten day, Saturday. And it all began with shoes.

I have precisely five pairs of Sauerkraut Band shoes. They're all Mary Janes of one kind or another, and they all match my dirndl. Four pairs are black, one is brown. Three pairs are Merrells, the most comfortable shoe on earth normally, one is Rockport, also a reputable shoe. One pair are a three-dollar pair of what I call "Chinese Laundry shoes." Now, Chinese Laundry is a brand of shoe nowadays, but I don't mean those. I mean, they're those little cloth Mary Janes with a rubber sole, no arch support, and shouldn't be worn for more than 20 minutes at a time.

I've worn all these shoes over my Sauerkraut Band years. And all of them, even the three-dollar ones, have done me well. Until this year. This year, every damn pair of them hurt my feet. I don't know if we're standing more this year than usual, or my feet have turned on me, or all ten shoes have decided they don't like me anymore. Whatever the case, I've been in agony every show we've done so far.

And they say when your feet hurt, you hurt all over. And whoever they are, I guess they're right.

That's how Saturday began. With hurt feet from Friday night. Hurt feet, and being hot. My heat pump was still broken (the new one was installed today, and I'm writing in cool comfort, thanks for asking), and when I woke up on Saturday, my hurt feet were also swollen. They were so swollen I could feel the skin from my leg resting on the top of my foot. I ambled into the bathroom, and the first thing I saw was my face in the mirror. It was magenta.

I knew it wouldn't be a good day.

And it wasn't. It started bad, got worse, and slid into total disarray. But I'm not going to tell you about it. Great story that it is, I'm not going to tell you about it. Not right now, anyway. It's still too new, nerves are still raw, feelings are still hurt, and danders are still up.

Boys are fighting overseas. My dad has cancer. People are poor, unemployed, sick, lonely. I had a bad day. My yearly nervous breakdown. No one died. No one even cared that much, save for me. The world isn't going to stop turning, just like it doesn't stop turning every year during my annual nervous breakdown.

In fact, once Saturday's Oktoberfest began, I even found a way to laugh.

So let's just file this year's story of my nervous breakdown away for a while. It might be funnier a couple of months from now.

Instead, I thought I'd show you a picture. He's very elusive, but over the weekend I caught sight of my nervous breakdown long enough to get an image for you. He's not pretty.

























Yep, there he is, frowning and stomping his feet. He's a sight, isn't he?

But it's OK. I stuffed him back in the closet, and won't have to see him till next year.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. So, what is up with the weather lately?
- Honorable Mention goes to KaraBeth Mahaffey, with her, "Hot? Teeming! Frying! Too much sun!" (See, I told you I might name those who didn't even enter.)
- Runner-Up goes to LilyG, with her, "Hotter than fuck, this mugginess sucks." (The profanity was just enough, dear.)
- And this week's winner goes to the DeepFatFriar, with his, "Heated tropical flatulence turns mountains steamy."
- Thanks to all who played (and those who didn't)! You've all done very well!