Off My Game

Hazlitt, which I adore, has a recurring feature called “Well, That Sucked,” a link-happy round-up of the WORST things, or — to quote the publication directly — “a weekly compendium of exactly what it sounds like.”

And so, with that in mind, I present: What Went Wrong This Week For…Gillian.

1.) Winter Madness. I have had it with winter. I’m done. But what’s that you say, Groundhog? Six more weeks? Vermin: I am putting you on notice.

2.) I’m mostly over my Midwinter Plague, but not enough…the cough keeps hanging on.

3.) Oh, and also the In-Laws Poisoned Me. And after I gave up my entire Saturday to travel to some godforsaken exurb of Raleigh, eat dinner (!) at the octogenarian’s hour of 3:45pm, and make stultifying small talk with people I barely know as my GI distress slowly, persistently escalated.*

4.) Interpersonal relationships. For most of my existence, my default reaction to slights, injuries, and hurt feelings has been to shout, “F*ck you! You’re dead to me, now get out of my life!” and for the most part, it has worked. Human beings are, generally speaking, terrible and far more trouble than they’re worth; I’m almost always glad to see the back of people…with a handful of exceptions. And I hate exceptions, because they complicate what would otherwise be a highly effective system of ensuring that I die alone.

5.) Being alive and having to do stuff. A huge, all-encompassing category, I know, but right now, one that’s causing me a disproportionate amount of annoyance.

*On the way home, we had to stop at a McDonald’s off of 540 so that I could wreck their restroom; we arrived home with seconds to spare before round 2 commenced. I’ve been ok since then, probably because there is nothing left in my intestinal tract. I do “look a bit peaky,” and feel a bit awful.

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