Blue Monday? What about Red Sunday?

"No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?" Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany's

Let's talk about my Sunday, shall we?

First, I woke up entirely too early. I had gotten home Saturday night around 2:30, but didn't manage to fall asleep until nearly 5. Which means of course, I'm wide awake by 10:00. Lovely. And there's nothing on television on Sunday mornings except reruns of Moving Up on TLC.

Had to run a few errands so I finally got dressed and looked out the window. Fabulous. At least another 3 inches of snow on top of the 6 inches I hadn't shoveled out of the driveway yet. So looking forward to getting out of that.

But first? I need to find my keys. Which I cannot find. I check the door to see if I've left them in the lock (happens more than I care for) but they aren't there. I check all of the tables, countertops, shelves, floor space available, but no luck. They've simply disappeared.

If you think Nicole is prepared enough to actually have a spare set of keys, you are sorely mistaken.

Finally, I find the one spare key to my car, and decide that my errands won't take too long, I can just go and *ugh* leave my house unlocked. Because really? If someone wants to come in and steal the collection of empty diet coke cans that is in my basement, they are more than welcome to.

I go, run my errands, and come back with just enough time to grab something to eat, take a quick shower, and find my real keys before heading off to work. Great.

Remember the driveway I mentioned earlier? The one with fresh snow, and packed down iced up snow from the snowplow at the very edge of the driveway? For a moment, as I'm pulling onto my street I think I should just park on the road, and that way won't have any problems getting back out. Except, I rationalize (poorly) that I made it out of the driveway, therefore, if I hit the gas hard, I'll make it back in no problem. And then don't have to make the long walk to the front door of my house. What? It's Sunday, and I'm lazy.

Yeah, all fine and dandy and it would have worked if not for the damn crazy squirrel that appeared out of the sky and landed on the hood of my car. It scared the crap out of me and knee-jerk reaction, I hit the brake pedal and turned the wheel and the next thing I knew, I was stuck in the snowbank right next to my driveway.

(Number of times I've been stuck in my driveway this winter alone: 4)

Wonderful. Now I look at my watch, and it's 2:45, and I have to be to work at 4, which means I have to leave by 3:30. I get out of the car and survey the situation. Okay, I think. I can do this.

And I did. But it took two shovels, a bag of rock salt, and a lot of un-girly words muttered under my breath. And I made it to work with 5 minutes to spare, but no shower and no dinner were had.

Oh, and I found my keys. In a pair of shoes. Yeah, I don't know.

All night at work, as I tried to warm up (impossible after "playing" in the snow for so long), and feeling the muscles tighten up in my back, and having my hands start to ache from gripping the shovel so hard, I finally pinpointed what was upsetting me so much.

Did I care that I had to dig my car out of the snow? No, welcome to Michigan, we all have to do it at least once in our lives. No, what upset me was the fact that I had to do it alone. That there was absolutely no one I could call that would feel in the least obligated to even want to help me.

This thought then spiraled into me realizing just how truly alone I am. Just how close I actually am to being that crazy cat lady who ends up falling down her stairs and nobody realizes it for days because there was nobody to check on her to see if she was okay.

I've lived completely on my own for 7 years now. And I've loved every bit of having my independence but goddamn, how much longer am I going to be alone for? And when will I be strong enough and brave enough to be able to handle it and actually believe that I'm going to be okay?

Oy, I swear the next post will be a happy and lighthearted one. While I may be the crazy cat lady, I sure as hell don't want to be the depressed crazy cat lady.