Beware of the Ides of March, the soothsayer told Caesar, as I’m sure you’ll learn in school. A day of doom? A day of superstition? A day when things will go bat shit crazy?
The Ides of March are fast approaching, and let me tell you, things have been bat shit crazy.
Don’t ever let anyone say, “what else can go wrong!” or allude to the fact that “things can’t get any worse,” because from my experience (and I’m so experienced!), that means things can and they will.
Your father uttered these words Friday night after a long, tough day at work as we continued to clean up your puke, Baby Boy, while on hold with Life Lock and a million credit card companies regarding his identity theft, possibly due to our hospital visit in the Dominican Republic (thank you, vacation!).
No! I hollered, hunched over a glass of red wine I’d been nursing, so tired, tired, tired, “NO! Don’t say that!”
But he did.
And I spent the remainder of the weekend vomiting every two hours in our upstairs bathroom feeling at any minute I was going to birth the creature from Aliens from my stomach. (At least we know it wasn’t the halibut!)
“Things can’t get any worse?” A-hahahaha-ha-ha-ha! Don’t ever say that. Because life hits you and hits you. Because of these things the bar for what you can handle keeps getting raised higher and higher.
You must laugh!
(And do laundry.)
And beware of the Ides of March.
And in appropriate times, quote movies. This weekend, trapped up in my bedroom like a short-haired Rapunzel who smelled like cheese, I repeated “The Aviator” to myself in Leonardo DiCaprio’s Golden Globe winning drawl:
“Quarantine. Q…U…A…R…A…N…T…I…N…E. Quarantine.”
And I laughed and laughed.
Things are bat shit crazy. What else am I supposed to do?