Party for one

This post could also be titled: Worms, it's what's for dinner.

Note to all of you: I'm feeling sorry for myself this week.

I recently bought some shelving for my dining room, and the other night I decided to hang them. To do this, it required I insert some drywall screws into the wall. The screws that came with the shelves were not the greatest quality and to get them started into the wall I drilled a starter hole. But when I was drilling, I only seemed to get through the drywall. Perplexed I wondered if I had hit a stud--I don't own a stud-finder, maybe why I'm still single, [bah-dum-bump].

It was around this time that the marinara jar dropped by to finally bring me back my house key and other assorted relationship remnants. As he was leaving, I mentioned that I was having issues hanging my shelf and he came back in to give it a try. He had the same issue, couldn't get farther than the drywall with the drill bit. He looked at the drill, gave the trigger a little pull, shook his head and then laughed at me. Then he gave me a look, a look I never wanted to get from him, he gave me a look of pity.

"You've got the drill set in the wrong direction."

I laughed, because of course that would be it. But after he left I just wanted to cry. I so wanted to be all, "see, I don't need anyone, especially you. Look what I can do myself. And I'm totally fine." And I was so not that way. And his look confirmed it.

I admit it. Later I did cry (and I like to blame PMS). I cried because I need to renovate my kitchen, and there's the renaissance girl in me that wants to do it all myself just to prove that I can, but I can't even drill a damn hole. I cried because what am I doing with my life? I cried because I'm lonely. I cried because did I even really want to hang those shelves in the first place. I cried because he looked at me like I was a helpless child. I cried because after I adjusted the drill to go the right way, the screw jacked up my wall. I cried because I have dear friends who are suffering worse pains than me and my silly little drill. I cried because I was tired. I cried just because.

I think I still have a little bit of a hangover from that party today, two days later.