I find a place to lie down.
At home, I stretch out on the couch and wrap myself in my favorite blanket, which happens to also be the cat’s favorite blanket, so I’m usually subjected to a couple of minutes of scolding and dirty looks at her being unceremoniously tossed onto the cold, hard floor, but hey…my world, and welcome to it, buck-o.
At work, it’s the floor of my cubicle. If someone comes around to talk to me, I simply ignore their confusion, tell them, “No, now’s a fine time,” and remain in my prone position on the floor with an arm draped over my eyes while they discuss whatever issue is at hand. I’ve been surprisingly productive in these circumstances, which is why, I assume, my boss hasn’t bothered me about it (about a year or so after leaving a job, I received a text’d photo of former co-workers lying on the floor of my old office with the caption, “We miss you!” Completely made my day).
If it’s “that time of the month,” then blue has mutated to black and there isn’t much for it but to sit back and wait for the darkness to pass. Forget about me being surprisingly productive with a co-worker while prone on the floor, or patient with a scolding from the cat. If I am not lying on the floor, but curled up under my desk, or have pulled the blanket over my head and am peering menacingly out from underneath, then you better know what you are about before you even try to approach. And you better be ready with warm hands. I require foot rubs (that’s plural). That plays out alright at home, but at work, not so much.
Being blue requires a lot of energy, so I rarely take on another activity, like reading a good book, baking cookies, or, God Forbid, house cleaning. If the TV goes on, it has to be mindless, feel-good crap. Not limp, vapid crap, because there’s nothing more irritating, no matter my mood, than limp, vapid crap. Oh, and no documentaries or thought-provoking dramas, either. I don’t want to be challenged. That’ll just make me more miserable. The best TV when I’m blue is binge-watching a favorite series, or a couple of good action-thriller movies. That usually does the trick. This is also why I keep a stack of pizzas in the freezer. Then everyone’s happy. Except the cat, who hates pizza, but she hates everything, so whatever.
Despondent, deep blue requires genuine TLC, which I ferret out of anyone who can manage it at the time. That, and a good cry, followed by a little nap, and maybe a splash of cold water on the face (tenderly applied by me at the bathroom sink. Not, like, thrown out of a glass by another at me). Or perhaps a cup of tea, and then all is back on track again. Oo! Did someone say Chocolate martini? Oh, well then, yes, that’ll also do nicely, thanks.