I'm restless and cranky today, even though the sun is shining and it's 60 degrees on our deck, which is where I am sitting right now. I should be blissfully happy and relaxed, looking forward to cooking, conversation and Champagne with B-man later. I should delight in the new buds on our trees and Paige lying on her back in the sun. My peppy rating should be off the charts because spring was invented to make you peppy, right? Renewal, redemption and resurrection...what could be wrong with that? And I should take great care to chose the right perfume to match this storybook setting, one that perfectly captures my unbridled joy as I twirl in the sunshine.
Yeah, sure, whatever.
Believe me, I tried to choose a perfume earlier, sniffing one bottle after the other, wondering why they all smell so harsh and nasty. Honestly, I don't know why I bought any of them. Daphne, my nose, is super sensitive today, and a little bitchy if you want to know the truth.
Hormones?
Grief?
Life transition?
Identity crisis?
Yup.
Losing my last parent makes me feel ancient and more urgent than ever about moving my life forward in some meaningful way. Actually, meaning is optional - I'd just settle for moving forward. Except I forgot what I'm moving toward and the pursuit of 'what's next' that has fueled my life for the last...pretty much always, is gone. Like what's next decided to stop playing and go in the house to watch TV. Now I'm stuck living in the stupid moment. Whoever started that concept can kiss my butt. You live in the moment, dumbass, I want to know what's next. You go meditate and do yoga and grab a therapeutic massage on your way home. Namaste.
Just lemme know what's next.
If I wanted to wear a perfume that smells as cranky as I feel, there are plenty to choose from. Paloma Picasso, Amouage Lyric Woman, Bandit or Rumba jump to mind. They were made for one purpose and one purpose only: to piss people off. Or Angel, which sparks low grade irritation at first, then builds over time, getting stronger and stronger with face-slapping patchouli until I have to bite my tongue so I don't blurt out, 'stop wearing that shit' in the middle of a meeting.
But wait, what if annoying perfumes can actually counteract crankiness the same way stimulants like Ritalin or Adderall treat hyperactive kids? No one's proven it can't work as far as I know, and it's certainly worth a try. Rumba, don't fail me now.
Image from google.com
Did you settle on a scent?
ReplyDeleteSometimes I don't like nice weather because I feel I'm supposed to play along.
XOX
Carol, I settled on an Al Rehab oil, Dalal. It's vanilla and caramel and sandalwood with a touch of tobacco. Makes a statement, but soothing, too. Perfect on a crabby day!
ReplyDeleteI LOVE this post! Made me laugh and then nod in recognition. Glad I am not the only one who can't seem to stop being crabby and find my give a damn! Lubs...
ReplyDeleteMermaid, I figured you relate - felt good to vent a little. Our give a damn will come back one day, I'm sure of it!
DeletePerfume oil on troubled waters - sounds just about right.
ReplyDeleteI too usually avoid perfume if I'm feeling out of sorts but I like the sound of Dalal from your description.
Perhaps give Paige and B-man a hug and, who knows, you might all do the Rumba on the deck for the heck of it!
cheerio, Anna in Edinburgh;-)
Hi Anna - Dalal worked beautifully last night and made me feel more relaxed about being cranky if nothing else. I like your Rumba idea...it's stored safely for my next cranky episode. Thanks!
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