Meltdown Mania May

Good riddance meltdown May 2022. For some reason, this year May has been a month filled with meltdowns, including one of my own, (a rarity for me). Although they minimized in severity as the month proceeded, it was slightly disheartening.

It started with a friend, who shall remain nameless unless she chooses to reveal herself. As she described her day, it started with receiving threatening hate mail while trying to meet a writing deadline with a computer that went rogue. To add to the madness, she had to find the right spigot among a wall full of spigots to turn the outside hose on for her sister, who was helping make sense of her garden. As my friend tells it, after a few primal screams (meltdown), and some deep breaths, the computer limped along, and she made the deadline, and a fleeting peace prevailed.

A few days later, Daniel was in the kitchen making his morning tea when the hot water heated to the perfect temperature for that selection of tea spilled all over the counter, floor, and into the cabinets. His body shook, he made fists, cursed in Italian, and had his meltdown. Calm under duress, I shooed him away, cleaned up the mess, and left the area so I didn’t say something I’d regret later. Like, “it’s tea, no one was burned, and there isn’t any damage, so get a grip!” But silence is golden, so I kept quiet.

Then it was my turn. I was notified that my newly prescribed blood pressure medication was delayed because I forgot to update my expired credit card. I immediately called to provide the updated information. The automated system sent me in circles, spewing the line about being closed on weekends and national holidays. I screamed into the phone, “it’s Monday, not the weekend, so pick up the d*** phone!” Then it hit me; oops, it’s Memorial Day. Disaster averted, meltdown over, I called on Tuesday, and all was resolved.

The last of the May meltdowns was in front of my house. I had just parked my car when I saw Kennedy, one of the cutest four-year-olds in town, having a meltdown in front of my house. She looked at me with teary eyes and asked me something in a language only a parent can interpret. Her father clued me in; she wanted a popsicle. Sadly, I explained, “no popsicles here.” She unabashedly asked if I had any ice cream, to which I replied, “no, but I have an apple or a banana.” Of course, that didn’t fly, so I did admit to having some gummy bears. A winner, or at least an acceptable substitute. She grabbed a handful, was reminded by Dad to thank me, and again, there was peace in Waitsburg.

Our first-of-the-month Sunday brunch was threatened by thunderstorms, rain, and hail. But then Mother Nature smiled on us five minutes before start time, and the sun came out, and the party went on. The jury is still out on June.

However, I cut my finger after the party when a large glass vase broke while I was cleaning up. But luckily, I was able to run to my extraordinary friends and neighbors who are nurses. They helped stabilize the bleeding so I could get to the ER. Four stitches and a splint later, I’m hoping for a joyful June, but I’ll settle for calm! Starting with a happy garden, a sold restaurant, an easy trip to Los Angeles for Daniel’s surgery, (tennis and sushi for me), sans meltdowns, nine fingers crossed.