THE FINE LAYER OF POLISH

I took a nap this afternoon. It was a mistake. I usually avoid naps because God gave me one sleep a day and if I waste it on an afternoon nap, that’s it, I don’t get to sleep again.

The upside is tonight I’ll get a chance to catch up on some research…

Sleep is great but it removes my thin layer of human polish. See, we all have a layer of polish that builds up over the years: the ‘filter’ that stops you from telling the absolute truth under all circumstances; that drives you to cloud hard truths and realities in tact and to stop you altogether from saying things that is better left unsaid.

This layer envelopes us as we learn expensive life lessons. Seeing what undiplomatic truth can do to people will facilitate quick secretion of human polish and while the offering of truth should not be done away with completely, it should be delivered with as much care as delivering an explosive device or a branch of orchids.

But in the minutes after I wake, my layer is thin and it’s best to keep your distance.

Does this dress make me look fat?

Only your ass.

I’m not an evil person, but layers are not permanent. They come and they go, just like arthritis pain in rainy weather.

After I woke from my nap, my brother had texted me a joke about being an alcoholic. It was innocent and juvenile. But I’ve been wanting to ask hom to stop that kind of joke for a while now. Our father was an alcoholic, it ruined my life and I was in no mood to laugh at related jokes. So instead of ignoring it or responding with a meaningless “haha”, I explained in rather clear terms that I’m sick of jokes like that and that he must ceast and desist…

Now I’m sitting here, my layer of polish returned and saturated with guilt over the guilt that I’ve now caused my brother. See, my mother and I did a really good job of protecting my brother against the humiliation and sometimes emotional abuse dished out by our oft intoxicated father. Such a good job that he considers his childhood with nothing but warm and fond memories. But in a previous instant of human-polish-removedness, I informed him how shitty my childhood was…

That too was a mistake. I had no right to destroy his idea of our father. I have to live with that. But now, thanks to my inability to wait until the polish had reset, I have something more to feel guilty about…

Screw the chococino, I’m having some wine.

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