Time for another check-in on the “Why am I constantly seething?” list! Here are some things I’m mad about this week:
That I have to turn Washington Post notifications off on my phone or my day will be ruined.
That I can’t hear the name of our former White House Communications Director without it triggering an hour-long “Bohemian Rhapsody” earworm.
That “staycation” and “athleisure” are casually used in conversations and articles in Elle magazine, and not perceived as a harbinger of the fall of Western Civilization as we know it.
That I have to explain what the term “collusion” means to my kids.*
That I’ve lived in Portland for almost 20 years, and I can’t make the mental leap to shift my imagined travel times to accommodate the horrific new traffic situation, so instead of my previous, adorably “devil-may-care” 10-minute lateness, I’m now that asshole who shows up 45 minutes late and angry, or turns around and goes home to watch YouTube videos of Elliott Smith and wish some kids would come play on my lawn so I could respectfully ask them to get off of it.
That my previously diagnosed clinical anxiety is now just good common sense.
That we can no longer use “I’m Just a Bill” to educate our youth about how laws get passed since the inception of Governance by Tweet.
That I was super excited about being able to say “Merry Christmas” again, but I’m not sure Earth will still exist by then.
That the Interior Secretary threatened the entire state of Alaska over Senator Murkowski’s healthcare downvote, and we all know we need Alaskans because they’re the only ones who can keep an eye on Russia from their houses.
That August is here, and that means an inability to concentrate on one’s affairs due to back-of-knee and under-boob sweat.
That being able to access healthcare as a freelancer literally changed my life and the lives of countless other creative entrepreneurs, and Congress now wants to force us all to get corporate jobs to get healthcare so we can watch our dreams die like a hamster forced onto a wheel after being fed only McDonald’s and Chick-fil-A, which, let’s be honest, would taste really good, but he’s definitely having a little tiny heart attack.
That our President would use thousands of transgender servicemen and women as political pawns. (Clearly he’s never played chess, or he’d know that it’s always possible for a pawn to put a king into check. Especially if that pawn has Navy Seal training.)
That’s all for this week! Tune in next week to see if there’s anything that gets me all in a lather! Besides my shower. Which doesn’t have decent water pressure.
Dammit.
* JK. I don’t have kids. That would be ridiculous.
