OMOO, EMIR, and ULU, oh my!

I decided this year that one of my goals was going to be to do the New York Times crossword puzzle every day. That lasted until mid-January, when I missed a day because I fell asleep in the middle of doing a Friday puzzle and then forgot to finish it until after the Saturday puzzle came out. So I revised my goal to “do all 365 NY Times crosswords this year” regardless of when. Just, before January 1, 2017.

About a week ago I realized that we were getting awfully close to that deadline, so I had a look through my crossword app to see how many I had to make up.

There were… large gaps. Most of April and June were a total loss. July was about half-done. In August I picked up speed, and most of the fall was in pretty good shape. But still, there was a LOT of makeup work to do. It reminded me of my Intro Philosophy class, my freshman year at college. I aced the midterm, got lazy, did none of the work for the second half of the quarter, and wound up trying to read and remember both Nietzsche’s “On the Genealogy of Morality” and Rousseau’s “The Social Contract” in one night. After the final I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in the women’s bathroom in Harris Hall. Not one of my finer moments.

Anyway, I’ve been doing about five crosswords a day for the last week, and I’m starting to see MAI TAI and OREM and SSE and EWER in my sleep. But goddammit, I am going to finish all of these puzzles by New Year’s Eve, because I said I would, and that is that.

I admit it is slightly disheartening to realize that I turn 40 next year and I have learned nothing about time management since I was 18.

You might say it’s Dickensian.

My mood is not great in the best of winters, and this is not the best of winters. This may, in fact, be the worst of winters. I’m not sure. The point is, seasonal depression plus regular depression plus election-related angst (the cherry on top of the depression sundae, if you will) has all settled in for its long winter’s nap in my brain.

Sometimes I’ll say this kind of thing out loud to the wrong people and they will look very concerned and they will say the thing that I hate more than any other thing, which is: “How can I help?”

Oh god, that is the worst thing. Don’t do this. Don’t be this person. I don’t know how you can help. If I could come up with that kind of targeted plan, I wouldn’t be in this situation. Like, maybe you can help by not making me have to come up with suggestions of things for you to do so that you can feel helpful? It’s like when you get guests who show up early for a dinner party and they say, “Give me something to do!” Dude, if I need help I’ll ask for it. Coming up with a chore for you so that you can feel useful is adding to my workload right now. 1) Baste turkey, 2) get rolls in oven, 3) chop crudites, 4) come up with something for Bob to do so he can feel useful. You just added to my list, friend. That’s not helpful. Don’t add to my list.

I’m basically okay, anyway. I’m functional. I’m getting out of my house, and not just for work. I’m eating too much and sleeping too much and snapping at people too much, but I’m making it.

(Jesus, I am out of practice at doing these posts.)