the Dirty Low

Are you wearing a sweater from the “Maybe Pile”? The “Maybe it was clean and just kind of fell on the floor, or Maybe it was dirty and just kind of fell out of the hamper”, but regardless… you’re wearing it…
Did reading that statement make you smile? Are you, too, wearing a Maybe sweater? Are you going “Oh, man. I’m totally in the Dirty Low right now”.

Fuck you, that’s not even close to the Dirty Low.

The Dirty Low is when you put the clean laundry on your bed in the hopes of making sure you fold them, and sleeping on top of them instead. Or beside them. Or just closing the door on them and sleeping on your couch. For a week.
The Dirty Low is when you leave the clothes you changed out of on the floor, and just step around them. For a week.
The Dirty Low, is when you order Chinese food (more on the issue of Chinese food later…) and leave it out because you’re determined to throw the rest away tomorrow because it was really disgusting that you ordered so much of it in the first place, and you ate so much already that you couldn’t possibly eat more ever again, AND THEN you eat it again the next day. After it sat out all night.
(Did I mention I live alone…? Yeah…)
But seriously, the Dirty Low is a scary thing. It’s the culmination of spending so much time alone in your apartment– or alone in your house, your room, your cupboard under the stairs…that you eventually begin to forget the basics of civilized living. The reason for spending so much time alone is immaterial; you work from home! OR you don’t work at all…  You’re getting your phd! OR you’re grading incomprehensible phd thesis papers… It’s  your exam period! It’s your period period… You’re single!  No wait, you’re single…
Any and all of these are perfectly legitimate reasons for never leaving your dwelling. And when you never leave your dwelling, you begin to realize just how low your standards of, well, everything can go.
So what’s brings you out of the Dirty Low? The Dirty Low Point. Yeeeeeeeahh. There’s a Dirty Low Point. For example, and this is clearly hypothetical, I mean it’s not like this is the state of my kitchen floor right now…but for example the Dirty Low Point:
Dropping a plate and breaking it on the kitchen floor. And then picking up the biggest piece, in order to drop it and break that piece on purpose, and then, walking away and forgetting about ignoring it for the rest of the day  the next two days.
Dirty. Low. Point.
It’s bleak. I know. But it’s (kind of) okay, because from the depths of the Dirty, Low Point, blooms the budding leaves of the Clean Of Shame. Not unlike the Walk of Shame (for details on that, click here), the Clean of Shame involves you, disinfectant, and brutal awareness of how gross you’ve been living for the past… length of time…
I won’t judge you, if you won’t judge me.

It’s been like this for…a length of time.


p.s. You are SO encouraged to share your stories back. Leave a comment! Commiserate! Or pretend to commiserate, and then feel better by comparison that you don’t commiserate with me at all…


Welcome, to The SadLameNight Daily.

The Sad, Lame Night is an invention– no, it is a truth, rather unwillingly realized by the single and the starting-to-age…

You have all had a Sad, Lame Night, whether you’ve realized it or not. A night where you look at yourself and realize you are surrounded by every cliché of being single, and even the cat is judging you…
For me, my sad lame night was born when my friend–let’s call her Giggles– and I went for a walk. Our walk led to getting frozen yogurt by the beach, which then led to renting a movie and going back to my (parents…) place to watch it with a bottle of wine…
(At this point, Giggles and I were pretty accustomed to going on romantic dates with each other.)
While inside the video store (Which still existed back then. Four years ago…) the following exchange  transpired:

Me:         Hmm, No Country For Old Men.. I wanted to see that!
Giggles: Hmm, me too. Oh! Doubt, I wanted to see that!
Me:         Mhmm, me too. Did you see Milk?
Giggles: No, but I did want to…
*15 minutes later….*
Me:         I just kind of want to watch The Proposal again.
Giggles: Me too.
Me:         So…The Proposal?
Giggles: Yes, The Proposal. God, it’s Friday night. This is so sad.
Me:         It’s not sad! It’s a little lame, maybe but–(Giggles stares at me)– okay it’s sad. It’s lame and sad. It’s sad AND lame AND– oooooh! It’s on sale!

So I bought The Proposal and Giggles and I went home (to my parents’ place. Where I lived with then, at that oh-so-awesome time…) and watched The Proposal in the basement. We got mildly drunk, so she could drive home later (to her parents’ place. Where she lives at still…) and we felt a little sad, and a little lame, and…
we could not stop laughing. Like. At ALL. And you need to know that Giggles doesn’t actually Giggle; she laughs this mad, loud laugh. Always in three-part-intervals, and always the best sound ever. My parents find her laugh hilarious, so there we were, laughing and literally being laughed at (by my PARENTS)…
And it was one of the best nights, ever.
Since then, she and I have shared more sad lame nights than I can count. Sometimes they really are sad; we covered sad-lame Breakups, sad-lame Didn’t Get The Job/Placement/Time Off/Raise…. sad-lame Injuries, and the vague and epically depressing sad-lame I’m Terrified I’m Going Fail Life moments. As truly sad (and lame) as these nights were sometimes, they were always the exact perfect way to deal whatever the sad-lame thing was that we were dealing with.  A sad-lame night is one of the, albiet few, exclusive privileges of having absolutely nothing going your way.

So if it’s Friday night (Or Saturday. Or Sunday. Or Wednesday at noon…), and you start to feel like you are sad, and lame, come mosey on over. I’m not saying you won’t be sad. Or lame. BUT, you’ll be amongst friends.

(and I mean that literally, as in I hope you are drinking something tasty while you read this. Alcoholic or not.)