Let ‘er flow

Like any Thursday evening, I’m in the tightest corner of the kitchen where the stove awkwardly opens against the side cabinets, and of course so is everyone else. Two annoying Terriers, a black kitten that I suspect is somewhat slow, two adorable, needy children and a husband staring at me while I cook taco meat, still in my tight af work clothes.

The taco meat is organic or grass free or grass fed or some shit, not sure, something really expensive that I wouldn’t have purchased had it not been on clearance at Walmart. We’re an 80% beef kind of family, pink slime and all.

“You get what you get,” as they say.

My husband’s complaining about work as usual, a spoiled girl who always seems to get ahead while he always seems to get the short end. “No use worrying about something you can’t change,” I tell him again, tapping the spatula against the side of the skillet.

My eyes wander a few feet to the right, focused on the wine chiller. Mecca. I’m wondering if the bottle of red has one of those easy screw caps or a cork and if I can open it before I have to stir the rice blend that no one will eat.

So I pop that bottle open and let ‘er flow like a fountain of heat lightning into my favorite “Gym Girl” mug. I haven’t been to the gym in 6 years.

Half a mug in, I can’t remember if I took my Zoloft this morning. Post-partum depression surely is a bitch, because 1. it killed my post-baby buzz; and 2. the meds shouldn’t be mixed with alcohol. So I’m left with a choice daily: anti-depressant numbness during the day, or wine numbness at night. Tricky, right?

The pill helps me coast through the more challenging parts of life, to stay just enough disinterested my blood never reaches a boil and my patience never tested enough to tell someone the F off. Too much of the dose, my creativity wanders like a high fairy — but I’m content with irresponsibility. Lost my pants? Who gives a shit! Forgot to pay a bill? Whatever! Nobody else pays their bills anyway …

I plate some of the tacos for my husband and our oldest son, and they eagerly crunch away. I pick up the baby from his bouncer, and he nuzzles into my neck while I take another sip.