I've had a seriously crappy evening. Even though it wasn't necessarily up there vying for first place with some other craptacular days of my life, it's the kind of day that makes you want to run for the hills and never come back.
For starters, I seem to have misplaced a crucial piece of paperwork, which would have apprised me of a very important deadline--which I may or may not have missed. Then, Husband came home in a foul mood, which was compounded by the issue of the missing paperwork and the uncertainty over the deadline. I got a repeat invoice for some home repair work I already paid, and it looks like it's going to rain for the next three days, which will cut into my dog walking time...
To top it all off, I was made aware of the fact that I had become the object of unprovoked vitriol and personal attacks by people with whom I had parted ways some time ago...
How can so many crappy things come crashing down in such a short time?
I was actually quite upset and rattled, especially when I learned of the attacks against me. Who made them and what they said is frankly immaterial, and relevant only insofar as it upset me.
In the past, I would have considered this kind of a day as a valid reason to order a large pizza, and eat it by myself, washed down with a bottle of wine. I would have used my emotional upset as an excuse to eat a whole bag of cookies and at least two quarts of milk. Or, at the very least, I would have made myself one very large, strong, and sugary girly drink to "settle my nerves."
I did nothing of the sort. Not that the thought of the bottle of wine or the strong girly drink didn't cross my mind, but I got distracted and never got around to it. As for eating? Well, I wasn't hungry. I had already had dinner. Yes, all this crap came down in the space of about an hour, after I had already had a long and frustrating day dealing with poorly designed, glitchy data editing software.
I chatted with friends, I worked on this blog, I folded laundry and listened to a book on my iPod, I made peace with Husband, and I hugged my dog. After a while, I felt much better. If I had followed through on the pizza or the cookies or a myriad other similar options, I would have been just as upset as before, plus I'd be feeling the effects of abusing my body with an excess of unnecessary food. I am so done with that.
Food is not your friend to listen to you. That pizza will not join you in being angry at those who wronged you. That gallon of ice cream won't tell you that stupid joke that's sure to make you smile. Those cookies will not put their arms around you and let you cry it out, nor will that bag of chocolate candies lick the tears off your face.
Food is not your dog. And I bet your dog is glad that he is not your food.