March 20, 2019

a time to whimper

Why?  Why won't you
come to my house?
The number is probably higher, but I've counted four distinct involuntary, quite audible whimpers that I've let slip this week.  They've come out on their own, in that space where a person isn't supposed to say anything at all.

I just went through our local Chick-Fil-A drive-thru, on a mission to obtain a gift card for a co-worker, and I accidentally let loose with a "thank you" instead of something crafted for the sole purpose of preventing them from saying, "My pleasure!" 

"Thank you," I said, and narrowly managed to not slap my hand over my mouth.  "My pleasure!" she sang.

I whimpered.

She looked at me with an odd expression that incorporated the unaltered toothy smile with curiosity.  She might have wondered if I was whimpering because of her or because I suddenly got appendicitis.

Five minutes later, on my way back to work, I whimpered in a socially acceptable way (alone in the car) when I was passed by a Thomas' English Muffin truck.  A whole truck of them.  Bastard.

I whimpered this past Saturday, on my way to pick The Kid up from play rehearsal.  The Sound of Music is coming along nicely getting there.  En route to the school, I whimpered in pain.  My depression this weekend was cruel and clawing and incredibly intense, almost as intense as my gratitude for its slow, steady lifting.  It hurt that much.  I whimpered, and cowered from its massiveness.  I am afraid of feeling like that again.  It reduced me to raw fear.

I whimpered again an hour later, in the school auditorium, while I was hanging out and pretending to be okay and listening to the VonTrapp children singing what I will euphemistically refer to as "harmony".  At the end of "Climb Every Mountain", The Kid later told me, he turned to a friend backstage and simply said, "My mom is going to kill them."  My ear for music is not my friend.  I whimpered several times during that chord set of sounds, tense in my chair, gripping the arms without realizing I was white-knuckled and breathing heavily.

I suppose that with the equinox has come Whimper Week for me.  My brain is under assault from multiple directions and it's speaking out without my input, in league with my larynx.  It's going to embarrass the shit out of me soon.  I can feel it.  Maybe I can cough right afterward and pretend like it was all part of the same moment, and say I just choked on my own saliva, which would be marginally less awkward.

Happy spring equinox/Whimper Week, y'all.

5 comments:

  1. That explains a lot, really - whimper week is here in full force as well. Question: Why are you staying in the auditorium when you've a perfectly good car, with a great sound track to sit in?

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    1. Because I don't really need to be sitting alone a lot right now. Even given the ... alternative ... in the auditorium.

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    2. Yup, good plan. Love you, so very much.

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  2. Heh, your don't like people telling you about their pleasure?
    Whimpering is better than silence. Hugs

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    1. If I believed it was their actual pleasure, that would be different, but they remind me of the animatronics at Chuck-E-Cheese, which happen to scare the shit out of me (as an adult, not as a kid).

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