I quit.
I texted that to my husband this morning. “I quit.”
There are so many reasons for this. My kid has cancer. There are other health issues in the family that we’re dealing with. Financially, well, let’s not talk about that. It will literally take me 65 years to pay off my student loans from the degree that has done me virtually no good. I love knowing scientific names for the muscles. Was it worth a $120,000 education? Debatable. It’s also super helpful that the Nerd still hasn’t gotten the raise he was promised from LAST year. I stress about leaving an inheritance for my children, even though I’m 30, because my mom died when I was 10 and right now they’d inherit a nice blender and not much else. My mother-in-law – who was a seriously kick butt lady – passed away a few weeks ago. In 30 years, that’s the second time I’ve had to say goodbye to an incredible woman I loved and knew as, “Mom.”
But here’s the real kicker. My stress level reached a point where I wasn’t sleeping. I often found myself feeling my heart racing as I worried about chemo/weight loss/vomiting/paying the registration on the cars/money drama/failing at life in general.
And then, the fruit flies came.
What most people see.
Yes, you read that correctly.
Over the summer, we got fruit flies. This may or may not be directly related to the fact that my children “throw away” their food in places like under the sofa, between the cushions, and behind their dresser.
I still haven’t gotten rid of them. There is no food out. We made a little vinegar trap I found on Pinterest. I cleaned everything – EVERYTHING. You guys, I pulled out the refrigerator and stove and mopped the floor underneath. That makes 3 times this year that I’ve done that. Do I get a prize? I feel like I should get a prize.
Anyway. I CAN. NOT. get rid of them. No matter what I do, they come back. And then I stand in the kitchen trying to make chicken enchiladas with mango salsa while pausing every two seconds to kill a flying thing and I stop and think that this is why people start to hear voices.
If a study was done on the history of individuals who have had nervous breakdowns, I’m pretty sure they all battled fruit flies.
I’ve worked hard at not being a loser at life. I never smoked. I never drank until I had kids. I obey the law. I was always an honor student. I have a Bachelor’s degree in Biology. And yet, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get anywhere. All of this is clearly confirmed by my absolute need for a clean house that is pest free, and my complete and utter inability to do that. THAT’S ALL I WANT. I’m not asking for a 6-figure income. I’m not asking for a McMansion with a manicured lawn. I’m not even asking for a minivan that doesn’t smell strangely of rotten milk and goldfish. I just want a clean house, and the permanent extinction of Drosophila melanogaster.
What is *actually* invading the house.
I’m not losing sleep because my baby has cancer. She’s kicking its butt and we have less than 3 months left of treatment. I’m not losing sleep because of money. We’ve never been homeless, and we always figure out a way to get by.
But the fruit flies?
They’ve done me in. They’re the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Remember when I talked about delayed-onset crazy? I think this is related to that.
You’ll see that on my tomb stone: She fought long and hard, until the fruit flies came.
I’m officially certifiable.
