After heading down to the Community Room on Tuesday to participate in the Arts and Crafts session, only to find no class because the Activity Director was a no show, I stayed indoors, in my unit, to myself last few days. We were scheduled to make table decorations for the Thanksgiving Dinner on the 24th, instead I found an individual, who is always otherwise bright, chipper, full of energy, vociferous, a hugger, sitting in a corner, back to everyone else in the room, looking sad sick sorry.
Oh here we go, thought I. The Holiday Blues.
The fact that she’d come down to the Community Room to mope in public, I saw as a ridiculous ploy for attention but yet and still went over and asked if she was okay.
“I’m just tired, but feeling better now that you came over and asked”.
That pretty much verified my thought she was vying for attention and, not wanting to go down that road with her, I just touched her shoulder in a buck up soldier gesture and headed back to my unit.
I can understand depression, we all go through it at one time or another, but to deliberately parade it around so everyone will feel sorry for you is a little much. And I can pretty much guess her depression is stemming from her children not living life in a way she approves of. I can’t offer anything others have not already offered but still she enjoys getting involved and clinging to being miserable about it.
Sorry, but I can’t respect that, especially since her children not being all she wants them to be is all she has to complain about when I know people with far worse worries that don’t go moping around for attention.
Another aspect of the Holiday Blues is this is the time of year when the unattached males look for someone to spend the holidays with.
It was October of last year when a well-built, reasonably handsome man engaged me in conversation as I was returning from picking up mail.
Our conversation was his informing me he’d only been here two months, and was relocating to a quad nearer mine because an older woman in his current quad objected to having a Black male. When she first saw him, she'd loudly proclaimed "The Blacks are moving in!" and when he ignored further taunts, because he lived in the unit beneath her, she’d stomp, purposely drop things, make noise designed to disturb his peace. Then he’d gone on to say how shocked he was that Nurse Ratched (the former community manager) had been fired because she was always nice to him, would hug him whenever they crossed paths.
“She was not nice … And the only reason she’s hugging you is because you’re not a bad looking man”, said I.
He laughed, responded, “And you’re not a bad looking woman”, at which point I began thinking Oh, No. I hope he doesn’t think I’m flirting.
I wasn’t. Handsome he may be but not my type, because I see beyond the surface and was reading him as not interesting enough for me. So, flirting I was not. It’s just that I'm an awake individual, knew right away why Nurse Ratched was all the time hugging him, and blurted it out.
At any rate, I’ve seen him out and about since, paid him no mind, he paid me none, until last week when I saw him sitting in the grassy knoll, looking down in the dumps, as I headed to the Game Room to weigh myself.
As I went to step on the scale, all of a sudden, he was behind me.
Surprised he’d move so quickly from the knoll to behind me in the Game Room, but not uncomfortable, I said, “Do you want to weigh yourself as well?”
He looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes, lets out a heavy sigh and says, “No, play pool. There’s nothing else to do here”.
Oh no, here we go again, the Holiday Blues.
Wanting no part of it, I weighed myself and, as he looked at me, waiting for me to respond to his woeful statement, I said “Well, have it (the pool table)” and quickly skedaddled.
With all the women here who would be interested in him, including my next-door neighbor who’d invited him in some time ago and bragged about exchanging telephone numbers, he won’t have a problem finding someone to bright up his holidays. It just won’t be me.
So, what have I been doing with my time this week?
Working on that never-ending needlepoint project and, today, I tried my hand at posting to Pinterest.
Daughter loved the kente cloth gluttee wrap, I loved the kente cloth throw pillow covers, so I tried my hand at pining both.
|Daughter in her Wrap|