What the Actual Hell

Ok sorry about that title but I was prompted to choose something and that one just jumped onto the page. Go away for a year and look what happens. Changes, that’s what. I’m a little old lady and it’s hard for me to learn new things but this new editor nonsense presents a challenge I might be up for. Let’s carry on and see.

I am sitting in my living room on the 8th of November at what looks like dawn but really isn’t. This moody month the whole day can look this dull. I have a sweatshirt pulled on over my nightgown, big fuzzy socks on my feet which are perched on a little footstool, a lovely warm afghan draped over my legs, nowhere to go, nothing to do. Except play games on my IPad and drink coffee until W gets out of bed. He naps on and off all day and can’t figure out why he does the same thing all night, so he has already been up at some point to leave many clues behind indicating he has made himself toast and peanut butter and coffee and still has no idea how to clean up crumbs. And then he went back to bed. So I feel like I should be quiet and not do the vacuuming or something, Ha. As if I need an excuse to not vacuum.

But I didn’t come here to list all my petty annoyances. I don’t think. Maybe I did. Or maybe just one colossally frustrating one which might not even be real. It seems that every time I decide to sit down and blog my little old lady heart out about whatever inconsequential nonsense is rattling around in my head, something BAD happens. I don’t want to write about bad stuff. I don’t even want to think about it. But I would also feel guilty for not even mentioning it if I did write something. So there goes the writing for another year if I keep this up.

People get sick. They can be involved in accidents Sometimes they go to a hospital. Sometimes they don’t come home. I know this is how life works, I’ve been around long enough to figure that much out. Shit changes every single day whether we’re paying attention or not. Maybe tomorrow I won’t have the supreme luxury of sitting here at my little desk playing word games and rolling my eyes at the idiots on Twitter. Maybe W will go to bed and never get up. Maybe I will develop a sore throat and a dry cough and a raging fever, have difficulty breathing, get chills, my glucose readings will shoot up and my blood pressure will skyrocket and I will fall down the basement stairs and knock myself out on the concrete. Hell I’m ready for anything! Of course I’m not ready at all for any of it, but I hate surprises so imagining these scenarios gives me some weird kind of comfort.

There is not one flake of snow on the ground here. There has been fog and strange misty rains and chilling winds, but no snow. I could deal with an entire winter like this, no problem. But the summer that follows it might be deadly. See how doom and gloom I am?? Sitting here not even dressed and showered yet, imagining draughts and floods and food shortages and the end of the world. It’s exhausting.

Another thing that wears me right out is taking my blood pressure readings twice a day, my fasting blood sugar reading every morning, recording my weight whenever I think it might not depress me too much, and monitoring how many carbs I ingest. This staying alive business is hard work. I’m doing it for my family. They might miss me when I’m gone. I know that awful sad and empty feeling and don’t wish it on anyone.

How the actual hell did this turn into a personal health rant? Gawd I am nothing if not strange as all get out sometimes. Time to do something productive. Get another cup of coffee. See if I can book our third covid vaccination shot. Get W to go for his flu shot. I got mine at my yearly physical appointment where my doctor seemed pleased with my general well being but decided to torture me with all this self monitoring for a month anyway. Wipe the toast crumbs off the counter because if I wait for W to do it we will be buried in them by the end of the week. Send him with a list for groceries. He’s pretty good at doing the shopping.

Publish this without editing? Sure. What the actual hell, hey? Life on the edge and all that. Talk soon. Maybe. Who really knows. I will try to not knock myself out on the concrete today and we will go from there.