Day.... Who the Heck Knows

Today is Tuesday, and it's week 4 of this social isolation/quarantine-type environment, and that's not even counting Spring Break.

Last week was really rough.  I had a complete meltdown last Friday over an insignificant occurrence, but all of my frustration built up and I acted out like a petulant child.

Friday was payday.  When I was a kid, we only at out on paydays (to spend money more wisely).  As an adult, I didn't stick with that because I had more disposable income.  However, with the lock-down that's happened, going out just doesn't feel right (even to take advantage of curbside and delivery to support restaurants).  I just want to stay in the house as much as possible and only leave when I could get some bang for my buck (figuratively, not literally).  The previous payday was during week 1, and we (husband and I) decided to order takeout from our favorite family-owned Mexican restaurant.  I ordered fajita nachos, and it was amazing and probably tasted even better because it has been a week since I had restaurant food.  So last Friday, another payday and now two weeks since I had restaurant food, we decided to once again patronize that Mexican restaurant (because we don't want them to fold under the economic pressure of today).  I again wanted the beef fajita nachos, but this time I also wanted a side of guacamole and a side of queso.  I entrusted my husband with the ordering and picking up.

20 minutes later, he walked in, the aroma of Mexican food wafting behind him.  He handed me my container, and I opened it slowly, fully prepared to inhale the aroma of sizzling beef and toasted tortilla chips.  At the same time, my husband was opening the container of queso and said, "Huh.  Why didn't they melt it?"  I looked at the container of shredded cheese he was holding, and then looked at my food.  There was NO cheese on my nachos.  None.  My container instead was filled with toasted chips with beans poured over it and beef fajita sprinkled on top.  Basically, it wasn't nachos.  I looked at my "nachos."  I looked at the cheese.  A second later.... "Shit."  I realized that when my husband asked for a side of queso, he did just that; the Spanish-speaking lady who took the order thought he meant that I didn't want cheese ON my nachos, that I wanted them on the side.  So that meant not only did my nachos not have cheese, but I didn't get my hot, creamy, spicy queso dip.  Seriously, though - who eats nachos without cheese?  Nachos without cheese is just beans on chips.  NOT NACHOS.

I do realize that this is absolutely a first-world problem.

Yet, I had a meltdown.  I was absolutely crestfallen.  With little to look forward to in this time of homebound isolation, all I wanted was some ooey-gooey beef fajita nachos with bubbling cheese, crips chips, and perfectly seasoned beef.  With a side of queso.

I won't go into the details of my meltdown, suffice it to say it wasn't pretty and I'm not proud.  Shredded cheese may have ended up on my wall.  Food may have ended up in the trash can.  I may have cried.

But the outburst wasn't about the food.  It was a compilation of frustration, let-down, anger, sadness, and lack of optimism about the situation.

I'm frustrated that I'm stuck in my house.
I'm frustrated that the weather is unseasonably warm so that I don't even want to go outside for a walk most days because I start sweating immediately.
I'm frustrated that I can't go into my classroom.
I'm frustrated that I can't go to bootcamp with my workout buddies.
I'm frustrated that I'm working AND cleaning the house and my husband is watching tv or playing games.
I'm frustrated that our politicians seem to be politicizing everything rather than giving us real answers.
I'm frustrated that some of my students are having a difficult time at home and there's nothing I can do.
I'm frustrated that every article in the front section of the Houston Chronicle is about COVID.
I'm frustrated that the one thing I was looking forward to was marred.

I'm having a difficult time doing what I enjoy.  I haven't been able to sit down and read comfortably because I can't focus.  I haven't baked as much as I want to because I don't have all the ingredients and going to the store daily is out of the question.

Today I'm better.  I hit my wall last week.  A friend of mine told me that she hit hers yesterday.   My husband hit his two nights ago.

I have a feeling that everyone around me is hitting walls.  I hope someone is there to tell them that it's ok - that this is normal.

And when I order my beef fajita nachos next Friday (pay day), I know NOT to order a side of queso.