12 steps can't help me... sloth in tree

12 steps can’t help me…

When the package from Amazon arrived I searched my foggy brain for some memory of what I had ordered.  

I order things from Amazon with quick draw speed. In a showdown in the streets of the old west – you’d be pushing up daisies.

Since the conception of the Amazon Prime Pantry – I have been to Walmart three times. I count this among my greatest achievements – and I have a Masters degree. My educational achievements are listed well behind my ability to avoid Walmart. Also, I can play the drums better than the one armed drummer from Def Leopard. He and I also have the same hair do.


All this to be said, this package was only the third or fourth alarming highlight to my problem. I usually can gauge by the packaging what I ordered – or within a few minutes – remember what necessity I had to have.

In this case – I have no recollection of what is inside. Opening the box only further slammed me.
It’s a shower curtain.

shower curtain

A sloth shower curtain.

A sloth shower curtain depicting a sloth in place of King Kong.

Perhaps it’s a mistake?

Amazon doesn’t make mistakes.

The colors don’t match my bathrooms and while I think sloths are cute… I don’t decorate with them.

I have no idea why I made this purchase.

The writing is on the wall, the sloth shower curtain won’t adorn my bath.

I have a problem.

I open my phone and look at my Amazon account. 2 days ago at 3:12 a.m I ordered this sloth shower curtain.

I put it back in the box and put it on my closet shelf.

I flop onto my bed – my room is a mess. Another indicator that I am not okay. I always make my bed. My beautiful occasional chair is covered in unfolded laundry. Shame. I never do this. I hear a toddler calling to me and I drag myself to the kitchen. Both young boys are still in their pajamas. They had Oreos for breakfast. Don’t judge me – how is an Oreo different from a pop tart?

It’s 1:30 in the afternoon.

Okay, now go ahead, jugde me.
Tears well. A lump forms in my throat. I manage to make them macaroni and cheese. I add the cheese food stained lunch dishes to the piles of dirty dishes teetering in the sink and on the counter.

I peel crusty pajamas off my two young sons. I put clean pajamas on them – at least, they are cleaner than the ones they had on. And the reality is, we aren’t going anywhere… Why get dressed? I put them in their beds for a nap.

A nap.


I head back downstairs.
I make my way to the bathroom careful not to look in the mirror. I don’t want to look. I know the reflection in the mirror will only ignite more shame. I haven’t worked out. I know I look a fright.
As I strip off my clothes I cannot contain the tears. The reality is stark. I wore these clothes yesterday.
I slept in them.
I vaguely recall sometime after dinner making the excuse that I needed to close my eyes “just for a minute.” I vividly remember waking at 1:30 am – fully clothed, well with one shoe off, under the covers.
My eyes sticky with old mascara and sleep. My throat dry and my tongue fuzzy. My hair hanging from a mangled ponytail. Stumbling through the dark…

I have a problem.
A shower at this point is more important than a nap. A shower will earn me some level of normalcy. A nap will only add to the shame.

As the scalding shards of water pelt me and steam attacks my pores, I viscously my scrub my icky flesh with sweet smelling suds and a loofa.

I honestly can’t remember the last time I was here? When was the last time I showered?
Who am I?
Some crazed drunk housewife who is so steeped in booze she can no longer manage to even bathe herself?

I pull on the last of my clean sweats. A twinge of hope returns with the application of deodorant and the combing out of shampooed curls. I make my way to the kitchen for a cup coffee and to tackle the dishes.

The shower has recharged me. Encouraged me. I commit to be different. I put the clean clothes in the chair back in the washer. I’ll start over. Wash out the wrinkles. Fold straight from the dryer. I’ll make the bed! I’ll put on a roast! Tomorrow I’ll go to the gym. And after the gym, I will boldly walk into Walmart and buy lettuce! And other things you need to make… A salad.

We will eat salad.

We will go on a play date.

We will go to library time and I will vacuum. My resolve to overcome my problem inspires me and I go to my closet to fetch the sloth shower curtain I unknowingly purchased from Amazon.

I print a return label.
Nothing can stop me.
I am so charged by the shower and the smell of pomegranate body wash I go so far as to aspire a trip to the post office!

I will go to the post office. 
Things have gone too far. But I am back baby!

I go and check – sleeping soundly for the first time in… What month is it?
I can’t afford to miss this opportunity.

Everyone is asleep.

I know what I said. I know I said I would be different and function again at a higher level.

But my obsession – my addiction calls to me in the quiet… Forget the coffee.

Forget the dishes and the laundry.
I have a problem.
It’s a baby.

And I need a nap.

No temptation has seized you except what is common to man… 1 Corinthians 10:13

May your floors be sticky and your calling ordained. Love, Jami



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  1. afpalermo10 on January 15, 2016 at 9:51 pm

    What a beautiful problem to have!

  2. Edith on December 2, 2016 at 7:11 pm

    To be honest the Oreos are probably more nutritious than pop-tarts

  3. Glenna McKelvie on December 3, 2016 at 8:55 am

    Yup–been there, done that! (A long time ago)

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