Out Of Body Experience

Ever had one of those horrible flip out moments, where you just completely lose your mind…and strangely at the same time, you’re standing beside yourself utterly sane? Let me walk you through my most recent pointless meltdown. It all began simple enough. Needless to say, I must have been stressed up to my eyeballs for this monumental of a blow up over a herb. Mt. Kilimanjaro would have been envious.

Tonight for dinner, we’re having meatloaf, green beans and sour cream & chive mashed potatoes. Everything is done, except for the addition of the chives. I open the cupboard. A little voice in my head tells me to calm down. “There’s no chives?” I spin my Lazy Susan. “Where the hell are the CHIVES?!?!” I spin Susie again, this time with much more vehemence. I look at my husband [let me interject…right about now, I’ve stepped outside of myself. There are two of me in the kitchen. One a rampaging lunatic, the other the model of serenity.]

“DO YOU KNOW WHERE MY CHIVES ARE? I wouldn’t just NOT buy more if we were out!!!” [Insert my husband’s blank stare.] Lucid Me tells Psychotic Me to settle down…it’s just chives. Stupidly, I don’t like that bit of advice and proceed to slam shut the cupboard door with the same force as a category 5 hurricane. “Look what you just did, Over-reactor…now you have to clean up your spice rack.” Even the voice in my head has banded forces with the AWOL chives to conspire against me to thwart my charming dinner. At this point, since the onlookers are gawking, I decide to remove myself from the entire scenario. I stomp upstairs. Cursing loudly, smashing my foot into a misplaced toy, tripping over the desk chair, spilling a cup of water (somehow I also wound up with a paper cut) - I sit down. Even the cat is now peering at me.

“Really, Cat?!? You think YOU could do it better? YOU CAN’T MAKE SOUR CREAM & CHIVE MASHED POTATOES WITHOUT THE CHIVES….Otherwise, it’s mashed potatoes that taste funky.” Sensible Me sits down, puts an arm around Unstable Me, tsking all the while. Slowly, the two mes begin to merge back into one slightly more reliable marble-holder. I realize I just challenged my kitten into a cook-off. Laughingly, with self-degradation, I look at the cat once more, “Going to be a bitch to beat me without that opposable thumb.”

I get up to go back downstairs, ready to make my apologies to my family who is now sitting at the table. With an impish grin, my husband hands me the bowl of potatoes and says, “Want some? They’re good, but would be better with some chives….”