"Some Days You Just Can't Get Rid of A Bomb."

So when I left work Thursday, it was under a growing cloud of concern that my professionalism was being called into question.

There was nothing I could do before I left to ease the concern, so I knew it was going to follow me all weekend long. Why did I know this? Because we Davidsons have a streak of paranoia that LIVES for stuff like this.

So indeed, all weekend long, I’d be trucking along and then KABLAM the paranoia would checking saying, “Hey, remember when you get back to work on Monday you’re gonna have to deal with professionalism, called into question! Have fun with that!”

We Davidsons also don’t like Sunday evenings as a rule because they mean the weekend is over and we have to head back to work so the paranoia really settles in and starts chewing like some hungry caterpillar meaning I can’t focus on any task that’s going to take longer than thirty seconds unless it’s dish-washing, my go-to for consuming nervous energy and thanks be to my children who left a LOT of dirty dishes that needed to be taken care of.



I also listened to Christmas music. Lots of Christmas music minus most of the modern stuff and the stuff that came out of Motown. Because that also sorta calms me down.

So I’m washing dishes and testily yelling at Alexa – I have to have the volume loud so I can hear the music over the clatter of dishes – and none of that is really helping the stress/paranoia fade. Good thing I had a Diet Pepsi so the calming effects of caffeine could kick in as well.

Nevertheless, as I went to bed that night, I said a little prayer, adding in the request that my back would be strengthened to bear the burdens that would be placed up on it.

Then the dogs whined a lot that night. Michelle took one of them out at one point. But then that same dog was concerned/upset I wasn’t getting up at the regular time (nevermind that I was getting up at the regular time for a Monday) so I sneaked in another 20 minutes of sleep on the couch after putting the dogs out.

Then I get to work and the first email I see is from the fella who was calling my professionalism in question. And it was:

Nothing.

Nothing.



Just a few comments on stuff. Stuff he should be commenting on, not the stuff that would have brought my professionalism into question. None of that.

Good thing I didn’t pack that around with me all weekend.

Which leads me to wondering: I’m pretty sure autism, at various points on the spectrum, gallops in my family. As does this paranoia/depression thing. If any Davidson tells you otherwise, we’re probably lying. What can be done about it? Clinically, I’m Schultz on this: I know nothing. I’m being treated for high blood pressure, and that’s about it. The rest? Who needs the doctor bills to discover what’s already obvious and likely?

And will I remember to get the under-sink supply lines and the Drano on the way home from work tonight? I certainly hope so.

To summarize: Me, trying to get rid of those paranoid thoughts: