The constant underlying stress has finally gotten to me.
I started recording short voice memos in the mornings to send to my mom. I normally would call but she prefers phone chats around 10 pm when I’m wiped out from the day lately. I’ve been waking up between 5-7 am so I start fading by like 10 pm, especially if I’ve had booze. For the last week, I’ve been drinking like a mom who has 7 kids. I caught myself saying, “Shut up, Ethan, where’s my goddamned martini?!” But, nobody was there.
My nose is always super stuffed up for the first hour of the day, so I sound sick on these recordings. Which is hella not cool right now during a pandemic. Anyway, I text the files to my mom so she can listen to my thoughts at the beginning of the day, which is generally going to be nicer and more positive. I just want her to know that I’m OK and give her some communication that she can have control over. It feels very “Felicity” to record myself talking to a specific person. Remember that episode when someone accidentally put one of her confessional cassette tapes in the boombox at her poppin’ dorm party, and everyone heard her talk about being a virgin? That was gold. Many life situations prompt me to refer to that specific story more often than you’d expect. I hope to include it in a TED Talk someday.
I haphazardly bought apricot jam last week when the store was sold out of all the other flavors during the initial food scarcity panic. I fucking hate apricots and every time I look at that jam jar in my pantry I have some kind of feeling about it. Here are a few thoughts that come up:
“Do I really need this? There’s probably someone out there wishing hard for apricot jam and unable to find it.”
“Will I eat it, or wastefully let it sit there? What if I just think I hate it but haven’t actually tried it? I don’t remember. What if it tastes better than an apricot on its own?”
“This is an example of fear-based decision making, and I’m not proud of that. Better to have done that on a low stakes game. Maybe this has prepared me for a more serious situation and will empower me to make a wiser choice next time. If I had a do-over, I would have held out for orange marmalade when the store restocked (yes, I checked, and they have marmalade again).”
“Should I force eat the nasty apricot jam before I allow myself to go out and get the jam that I know my heart truly wants?”
If anyone wants apricot jam, I’ll leave it on your doorstep.
Michelle Schlachta is a writer living in San Francisco.