Ever have one of those off days…
weeks… months? Well, that’s where I’ve been. Summer is almost over and although
fall is my favorite season, I still feel a symbolic death at the end of my flip-flop wearing days. For years, September meant a return to school and studying,
aka stress. These days, all September signifies is the end to my A/C
being on 24/7. I lament the back-to-school sales and the cute, trendy outfits
the girls will be wearing on the first day of school. These students belong to
a club I am no longer a member of. I’ve become an outcast. School always gave
me a sense of purpose—a structure I could depend on. And as hard as I still
work, some days that structure and purpose can be hard to find, especially
since it’s self-imposed.
Perhaps my end of the season
doldrums can account for my moronic behavior of late. More likely, it’s my weak
attempt to deflect blame, and maybe I need to admit that age is slowly
scrambling my brain. Whatever the cause, lately it seems as if stupidity flows
through me like sands through an hourglass.
It all started when I ordered
external hard drives from Amazon. I am admittedly an external hard drive geek.
Ever since I fried my computer’s hard drive years ago and was forced to pay a
whopping $550 to retrieve my data, I have been the “back up queen.” So I did my
homework, researched the latest and greatest drives and finally settled on two
drives (yes two) from Western Digital. My heart fluttered when I pressed
“submit order”. I couldn’t wait to receive my drives and start organizing my
data. (Clearly my thrill at backing up data indicates my need to get a personal
life but I’ll save that for another blog entry.) A few days later, my drives
arrived. But alas, when I plugged one of them in, nothing happened. I
downloaded the user guide (something akin to admitting defeat) to no avail. I
couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I picked up the box and stared at it, when
it suddenly hit me. The name of the drive was missing the familiar “for Mac” at
the end of it. I had bought the PC
versions of the drives. Doh. One return shipping label and $12 in shipping
costs later, the wrong drives were on their way to Amazon and the correct ones
were now in transit.
Then for my second asinine move. I
came up with the brilliant idea of doing my laundry before work. Sounds time
efficient, right? I mean, what else do we do before work but eat breakfast and
watch “Kelly and Michael”? Getting laundry out of the way on a workday allows
my day off to truly be a day off. In theory, it’s genius. In
practice, however, it presupposes that I’m going to remember to pick up my
laundry when it’s dry! Later that night when I went to make my bed, I
discovered I had no clue where my sheets were… or my work shirts… or any of my whites for that matter.
So the same night as my hard drive
debacle, I walked to the laundromat to find my clothes sitting in a cart. The
manager looked over at me and said, “I was wondering who those belonged to.”
Oops. While I was gathering my clothes, a customer commented on how he had once
left his clothes behind for two weeks. Apparently I’m not the only idiot in
Astoria. Whoopee.
And now I’m simply waiting for the
other shoe to drop. What stupid move will I make next? Move my car and forget
where I parked it? Get ready for work only to remember I have the day off? I
know those seem pretty innocuous, but in the heat of the moment,
you feel like a first class imbecile. Is this all a sign of some undiagnosed psychosis?
Seasonal Affective Disorder, perchance? Essentially it’s a mood disorder where
people with normally good mental health experience mood swings in the winter or
summer. That would certainly explain my summer blues, but not my turning into an
ignoramus. I think my malady is in a class all by itself, and I am hereby
declaring it: Dumb-Ass Dina Disorder.
Where is the cure, however, for my particular ailment? The approaching autumn
may ultimately prove to be my savior. John Keats’ “To Autumn” speaks of the
transition from summer to fall so beautifully:
Seasons of mists
and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend
of the maturing sun
Conspiring with
him how to load and bless
With fruit the
vines that round the thatch-eaves run
Oh Mr. Keats… how I adore your
eloquence. It speaks to me of summer’s passing, yet partnership with the coming
fall to create a bountiful harvest. Here’s to hoping my life mirrors these
sentiments. Let this fog consuming my brain be lifted by the crisp, cool air on
the horizon, and allow me to move forward to a prolific and creative mindset. But until
that chilly breeze hits me, you can find me sitting in the corner…
wearing my dunce cap.
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