I know, that headline made you a little sick to your stomach. I get it.
Can you imagine how hard that was for me to type?
But you see, I am channeling my inner optimist. Who is hiding these days. Hiding really, really well.
My inner optimist is hiding behind the evidence that points to us having elected a mentally ill, out of control despot.
It’s hiding behind the realization that our Congressional leaders don’t really care that the guy with his finger on the trigger is out of his mind. They’re too busy fighting the traditional Democrat-Republican game of “YOU’RE A DOODY PANTS” to try saving us all from nuclear holocaust.
I’m trying to look on the bright side.
For example, I might as well eat that dish of ice cream since we’ll most likely be incinerated before I can die of heart disease. Also, if we go into a long nightmare of civil war and the grid goes down, its probably the fat people who will live the longest.
Also, there’s this little fact.
Whenever I get anxious, I clean things. When my kids were little, Paul used to be able to judge how well the day had gone based on how the house looked when he got home. If every surface was sparkling and there was a smell of Clorox in the air, he knew that one of the kids had gotten on my last nerve. He’d open the door, sniff, and ask, “Oh, oh. Who is it this time?”
He’s a therapist, so he explained to me that my desire to clean the house was a reflection of my feelings of helplessness. When my life felt out of control, I asserted my superiority over dust and grime.
If that’s true, then I really have to thank President Trump.
Over the last few weeks, I have found myself unconsciously organizing closets, sorting through old clothes and scrubbing things I didn’t even know I owned.
My granddaughter is 18 months old. This morning the two of us scrubbed the floors in every room of this house. I buy her all kinds of art supplies and books and toys in my effort to be a wonderful Nonni, but we spent an hour with me sweeping and her using the wet swiffer.
She seemed to enjoy it.
But honestly, I didn’t realize just how anxious our new administration was making me until tonight.
I found myself vacuuming the garage with a glass of wine in one hand.
Thanks, Mr. President!
When the mushroom cloud appears overhead, at least my house will look fabulous in that last eerie glow.
7 thoughts on “Thank you, President Trump”
What’s most disheartening is that 63 million Americans think just like him…and that’s just too many.
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yes, and they won’t ever come around until they personally are affected…it is disgusting. Now he’s fighting with Australia? and threatening to invade Mexico? And these spokespeople….good grief, these people are behind the fall of civilization as we know it I think. Spicer and Kellyanne seem to be getting crazier…probably scared to death that they are in a giant trap and there is no way out.
Don’t both Kellyanne and Spicer look horrible? I keep envision Bannon showing them pictures of their kids or something to keep them terrified and in line. Something seriously screwed up is going on when two allegedly well respected people end up telling outrageously stupid lies that they know will be exposed…
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they do both look like they are ready to pass out…scared…I will forgive almost anything but lies. Why don’t they talk about any debateable “benefits” of the DT admin orders…instead of tell direct AND stupid lies? I don’t think either Kellyanne or Spicer could get out now if they wanted to…
Thanks for the chuckle! I too have been drinking a glass of wine almost every night…which is new for me. I was joking w/ a friend the other day that at this rate, only 13 days into this new administration, I see alcoholism as a real possibility in my near future. 😂🍷🍸🍹🍺
Oh, at least its only alcoholism; I’m going to end up a fat old lady alcoholic with OCD! Yikes, though, really…..
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I have spent much of my 66 (yikes, still getting used to that) years feeling helpless/hopeless, yet never once have I felt the urge to clean anything.
We’re not at the drunk Nixon talking-to-the-portraits stage, and we survived him.