Burning the House Down, and Other Signs of Mental Frailty

So I almost burned the house down tonight. I don’t even know how. I mean, I do know how, in that one of the stove burners was pushed on (probably when I pushed something out of the way), and I left stuff on the stove, because I’m being lazy and stupid and only half my brain is working, and now I have one less sweater and the entire printed powerpoint from today’s professional development class burst into flames when I picked it up off the stovetop (it was embers) and the charger for my phone is toast (literally) and some other things that may or may not matter because I can’t actually tell what they were, now that they’re melted to the stovetop. I mean, none of it matters, because I got home from my frazzled trip to the mall, where I almost killed someone in the parking lot because my brain is offline, and then I saved the house from burning down. All that after weeping mightily on the drive back, because I almost hit that guy, and then I went to Barnes & Noble because I thought they might have a book that would help me figure my brain out, because nothing seems to be working, but I did not see Kathy’s Brain Explained in the Self Help section or the Science section or the Fantasy section, so then I walked the length of the mall, because I was still too shaky to get back in the car after almost hitting that guy (I really just went to Walmart to buy stuff for school, because I didn’t want to sit at home for another 4 hours moping and feeling like tense crap), and on the way home, I cried. I told you that already.

So the house is still here, but I scared the crap out of myself, because the last thing I need right now is something like that. That would throw me right over the edge into Crazyland. Unless I’m already there.

And now I have a rancid headache as well, from burning plastic fumes. All windows are open and the stove fan has been on for an hour. The whole house reeks of Trying to Burn Me Down, Were You? and the kids come home tomorrow. And I cracked the lid on the only casserole dish I haven’t broken.

I replaced the charger right away. Will have to wait on the sweater. Don’t know about the casserole dish. Don’t use the lid that often. Don’t know if I care.

I am incredibly lucky that it didn’t burn more/faster or that I came home when I did. Did I mention I scared myself? Yeah. Please fix me. This is fucked up. I can’t be this person.

In positive news, I finished quilting the beast. I think I did a total hack job on the last bits because I couldn’t stand it any more, but only I will notice. I also stopped EARLY, even though I wasn’t done, so I could go buy binding fabric so I could possibly bind it tonight. Then I came back and finished quilting. That was before I almost burnt the house down. I am still shaking, so I will not be using a rotary cutter or a sewing machine with a fast-moving up-and-down sharp bit tonight; I will have to do that tomorrow.

I don’t have any pictures. I could have taken pictures of burnt stuff, but I don’t want to freak you out. Or me. Any more than I already am.

I spent almost all day at school in professional development, realizing I am woefully unprepared for the beginning of the year, not because I don’t know what I’m doing, but because depressed people shouldn’t be teaching middle-school kids. I can only hope that I will be able to fake the right amount of enthusiasm, energy, and care until those aspects of my personality return naturally. Like when people are asking me “How are you?” and “How was your summer?”, I should not worry about telling the truth. I should fucking make shit up. GREAT! I had an AWESOME summer! I’m GREAT! Yeah. Maybe something a bit more toned down.

I’m going to go draw my house burning down now. Or something nicer. I don’t know.