Y’all, I am in desperate need of HGTV. Well, that and a vacation to Acapulco, but that’s not the point. I should give you fair warning: I haven’t posted in a really long time (it’s not you, it’s me), I have pictures of stuff I want to share with you, and this going to be long. Have a drink, grab a snack and settle in.

First of all, I would write one of those sappy shitty posts about oh I’ve missed you such much my 4 blog readers but that annoys people and it’s also kind of fake so I’m going to skip that and just say that I kind of don’t need you anymore.

HA! April Fools!

Here’s the thing, Internet: I’m not so much crazy anymore. I mean, according to the books I’m still a nut, but my counselor and my doctor have let me go (it’s not me, it’s them) because my medication has regulated the majority of my anxiety. I am now under orders to carry on with my life, which quite frankly confounds me. What to do? How to handle it? Who to blame? What’s with the feeling of the normal?

I know not what to do with myself, so BB and I took a day trip. We went to look at riverfront property we can’t afford in northeastern NC on a blustery beautiful day, and we enjoyed ourselves and had quite the nice time and we didn’t contemplate killing each other not even once. It was a fluke.

Brian looks across the river at his grandparents' house. True story.

We're so cute we DESERVE a river house.

Somewhere along in there I decided to talk BB into rearranging our furniture so that my new business – remember that? – had a space. And also because the back bedroom of doom and despair the office got so cramped and junky that we climbed over clutter and shut the door and pretended like it wasn’t there. So basically we devised this plan that we would bring some furniture from the back to the front, move the dining room, combine the living room and the den and call it a day.

The old living room which is now the dining room which moved from the old dining room that is now the new office.

A shitstorm turned upside down.

We are STOOPID. Mostly me, but I don’t live here alone.

It took two days of packing, one 13-hour day of moving, three men, three overseers and $100 to screw up my house. I mean, it could be worse, it’s not completely terrible, but y’all. THE MOVING. It’s not worth it unless you’re getting a new house out of it. I guess any idiot with half a brain could’ve told me that, but I’m not so good at the listening.

Right now I’m hiding from what’s left of it. The desk hasn’t been put back together, the dining room still has shit everywhere, the old office looks like an HGTV “before” picture and I’m short a hundred bucks. This did not turn out the way I planned.

Not much of an improvement.

See?

In addition, I’ve only had two orders with this here new business. Half the people I know are saying “I told you so” and the other half have promised to buy something to make me feel better. It’s hard to be the kind of person that I am, the kind that gets incredibly excited about something, acts on impulse and then is disappointed when expectations aren’t met instantly.

I obviously learned a whole lot in therapy.

Speaking of therapy, I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t know what to do with normal. I really don’t. I haven’t felt this energetic and un-anxious since college (!) and I just can’t seem to figure out where to direct this movement. I want to get out and run for miles but I don’t know how to run (it’s true) nor can I even walk around the block without reaching for an oxygen mask. (It’s that chair I bought years ago. I blame it for everything.) I want to start this business and take it to soaring unreachable heights (okay FINE, it’s stationery, where the fuck can it really go?). I want to quit my job, travel places I didn’t think I could go and get new stamps in my passport. I want to appreciate every morning and every night and stop wishing it away at a desk in an office in a small town.

But that’s not normal. Normal doesn’t have to be extraordinary, it just has to be comfortable, right? I used to have this friend in college who asked me all the time what normal was. She wanted to know if her family was normal, if her boyfriend was normal, if she was normal and I never had an answer. It isn’t the same for everyone and since I haven’t felt it in quite some time I really don’t know what it is. Is it rearranging your house to fill some energy need? Is it hopping in the car and using up a tank of gas to gaze at land you can’t afford? Is it pretending to tolerate your job but counting the minutes until you’re free?

Mostly a normal day.

I just can’t answer that.

We made a mess this weekend, all because I want change. Change is the evil fucking pollen wafting from the pine trees in the spring. It’s the baby gosling toddling around the pond near the parking lot at school. It’s the mommybloggers getting their own articles in the New York Times and their own seats at the White House. (I’m not linking to that because it’s frankly not worth your time.) It’s realizing that you don’t have be a nut for the rest of your life when there are pills to be swallowed and people you can pay by the hour to nod while you talk. It’s realizing that you are who you fucking are and you can’t afford to waste your time wishing you were someone else.

I love it when I give advice I can’t take.

Right now I am wondering how many of you are in my shoes. Are you feeling the anxiety I felt six months ago before I discovered the miracle of prescriptions? Are you dying to shed your skin and ditch the cabin fever? Or are you in limbo? I think I fall in the limbo category. I obviously don’t know what to make of myself, but I no longer feel like scrapping this go-round and trying again. There has to be some way to salvage what falls in the middle.

For now I’m going to live with the piles of junk and the jigsaw puzzle of furniture. I am going to hide inside away from the pollen and finish my book club selection. I am going to fork over every red cent I have to GlaxoSmithKline. I’m going to sit on Twitter and laugh at the stupid people.

I think I’m going to be normal.