1. Locate a large glass or plastic container. A 32-oz cup should do nicely.
2. Scoop a fairly-large amount of vanilla ice-cream into the cup. (Actually, "scoop" is not the ideal method; the best thing to do is to take a regular teaspoon or tablespoon, then run it across the surface of the ice cream. The idea is to fill the cup loosely, so that there are spaces between the bits of ice cream.)
3. Pour eggnog over the ice cream til the ice cream is covered.
4. Insert bendy-straw. (You can use the straw to stir the concoction, as well; otherwise you'll need a spoon in order to squish everything together.)
5. Drink.
6. Experience bliss.
Merry Christmas indeed!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
Surfacing
Okay, you can stop panicking--I'm still alive. Pissed-off, unemployed, and plagued by cats--but alive.
Yes, that says "unemployed". The sleep apnea kicked back in--although for the majority of the time, both CR and I were convinced that it was actually narcolepsy (I was talking in my sleep, walking around and falling asleep on my feet; apparently, I was even digging poor CR with my pointy elbows at night!!)--and even though I went in for the sleep studies and got a doctor's letter to explain that I was in treatment for the problem, I was told that it was not an acceptable letter because it did not specify accommodations that could be made by the employers. Then they made it into a performance issue, claiming that my tickets were not being closed in a timely manner; the final straw came in the second week of October, when a member of my own department, one who I'd considered a friend, ratted me out to my boss and my boss's boss, telling them that I was sleepy while working on her computer. I was sent home "to get some rest" and was fired over the phone that afternoon. There are several other aspects of the situation which are ALSO bullshit; those will come up as I think of them.
Actually, though, that's pretty much the bulk of the bad news. CR is still here; I now have a car (Mom got tired of her oil-burning little Saturn and decided to buy a new car, and thus I got the oil-burner); the cats are fine, I'm happy being out of work for seven or eight weeks so far; we cashed in my 401k and so we have enough to live on for at least a few months. I'm looking for jobs, but I'm not looking terribly hard--I have some ideas percolating, along with a promise I made to myself long ago, about this being my FINAL office job.
There's more, of course, and this time I really WILL update more often; CR's presence here has been EXTREMELY helpful in getting me off my portly, unmotivated butt and at least TRYING to do something with my strengths.
Meanwhile, thank you to those of you who wrote, commmented, or just wondered where I was; I'm not sure WHERE I was; apparently, though, I was SOMEWHERE, and as far as I can tell, I've come back in one piece, and a bit better for the ride. I'll be back soon, with more stories--which is always, always a good thing.
Yes, that says "unemployed". The sleep apnea kicked back in--although for the majority of the time, both CR and I were convinced that it was actually narcolepsy (I was talking in my sleep, walking around and falling asleep on my feet; apparently, I was even digging poor CR with my pointy elbows at night!!)--and even though I went in for the sleep studies and got a doctor's letter to explain that I was in treatment for the problem, I was told that it was not an acceptable letter because it did not specify accommodations that could be made by the employers. Then they made it into a performance issue, claiming that my tickets were not being closed in a timely manner; the final straw came in the second week of October, when a member of my own department, one who I'd considered a friend, ratted me out to my boss and my boss's boss, telling them that I was sleepy while working on her computer. I was sent home "to get some rest" and was fired over the phone that afternoon. There are several other aspects of the situation which are ALSO bullshit; those will come up as I think of them.
Actually, though, that's pretty much the bulk of the bad news. CR is still here; I now have a car (Mom got tired of her oil-burning little Saturn and decided to buy a new car, and thus I got the oil-burner); the cats are fine, I'm happy being out of work for seven or eight weeks so far; we cashed in my 401k and so we have enough to live on for at least a few months. I'm looking for jobs, but I'm not looking terribly hard--I have some ideas percolating, along with a promise I made to myself long ago, about this being my FINAL office job.
There's more, of course, and this time I really WILL update more often; CR's presence here has been EXTREMELY helpful in getting me off my portly, unmotivated butt and at least TRYING to do something with my strengths.
Meanwhile, thank you to those of you who wrote, commmented, or just wondered where I was; I'm not sure WHERE I was; apparently, though, I was SOMEWHERE, and as far as I can tell, I've come back in one piece, and a bit better for the ride. I'll be back soon, with more stories--which is always, always a good thing.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
"You Really, Really Like Me!"
Sorry for the long absence; I haven't given up on this place, but it's been a hectic couple of months.
Let's see. I was put on probation at work at the beginning of July, for excessive absence and for not keeping up with the rest of the pack in terms of completed work tickets, and for increasingly falling asleep at my desk. Well, we know all about that sleep thing: Gladys hasn't been using her CPAP because it's completely worthless and blah, blah...maybe if I went in for a sleep study I could get a BiPAP, which are supposedly easier to tolerate. So I went for the sleep study, where it was decided that I do NOT have sleep apnea. The next test, at the end of next week, will either confirm or disprove the new possibility: there's a good chance I have narcolepsy. THAT will be another blog post entirely; hell, so will the work probation thing.
Next topic: CR has been living here, and we've done almost nothing but hang around and enjoy each other's company. But again--that's a post all its own. This is the happiest I've been in many years. We are very good for each other, and any skepticism I've felt has largely disappeared.
I have my all-day sleep study next Friday, which involves spending Thursday night and the whole day Friday hanging out at the hospital, taking naps throughout the day. The rest of the time, though, I hope to be able to use my little laptop to catch up on my blogging. As you can see, I won't be lacking for material!
Til then--nobody panic, as I am alive, and well, and totally swamped.
Let's see. I was put on probation at work at the beginning of July, for excessive absence and for not keeping up with the rest of the pack in terms of completed work tickets, and for increasingly falling asleep at my desk. Well, we know all about that sleep thing: Gladys hasn't been using her CPAP because it's completely worthless and blah, blah...maybe if I went in for a sleep study I could get a BiPAP, which are supposedly easier to tolerate. So I went for the sleep study, where it was decided that I do NOT have sleep apnea. The next test, at the end of next week, will either confirm or disprove the new possibility: there's a good chance I have narcolepsy. THAT will be another blog post entirely; hell, so will the work probation thing.
Next topic: CR has been living here, and we've done almost nothing but hang around and enjoy each other's company. But again--that's a post all its own. This is the happiest I've been in many years. We are very good for each other, and any skepticism I've felt has largely disappeared.
I have my all-day sleep study next Friday, which involves spending Thursday night and the whole day Friday hanging out at the hospital, taking naps throughout the day. The rest of the time, though, I hope to be able to use my little laptop to catch up on my blogging. As you can see, I won't be lacking for material!
Til then--nobody panic, as I am alive, and well, and totally swamped.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
An Informational Public Service Announcement
Friendly friends of mine, please allow me to pass along the wisdom of my many years upon this earth. (Firefly, you really wanna stop reading NOW--this post references the V word repeatedly, graphically, and in the ickiest ways imaginable.)
You know, the world is filled with lessons. "Don't touch that stove." "Don't walk down dark alleys alone at midnight." "Doctors don't tell you a damn thing you need to know."
Oh...yeah, that last one probably needs some explaining, hm?
For six of the seven most recent days, I was sick.
No, not stuffy-nose, Kleenex-trailing sick; not cramps or bird flu or bubonic plague or any of the other mild little inconveniences of life. I didn't know WHAT it was, actually; from a descriptive point of view, it was "mild stomach pain, not helped by rest, by tea, by Rolaids, by ginger ale, by Pepto, by Sprite, by changing positions; alternating with repeated retching, gagging, hurling, Technicolor yawning; coupled with nightmares (when sleeping) and really painful and undignified intestinal occurrences (fortunately, only when waking) and highlighted by the repeated and ungratified wish for the mercy of Death." Also, intense sweating (possibly due to the 90-degree temperatures) and the puking out of my spleen.
Y'all, I was NEVER sick like this before...well, okay, I was--ONCE. And that was here. Which, if you recall, involved a week's hospitalization, two major surgical procedures, and a lot of misery. I've had opiate withdrawals easier than this week was, is what I'm saying here.
I thought a lot of things. What I did NOT think was "hm, I wonder if this has anything to do with trying to wean myself off the antidepressants?"
Well, it was. In a big way. More details when I'm at a computer that is NOT in a 90+-degree room--but I've learned a LOT these last couple of days, and I'm none too happy about any of it.
More soon. I'm fine now, fortunately...not unscathed, but fine. Oh--and pissed.
You know, the world is filled with lessons. "Don't touch that stove." "Don't walk down dark alleys alone at midnight." "Doctors don't tell you a damn thing you need to know."
Oh...yeah, that last one probably needs some explaining, hm?
For six of the seven most recent days, I was sick.
No, not stuffy-nose, Kleenex-trailing sick; not cramps or bird flu or bubonic plague or any of the other mild little inconveniences of life. I didn't know WHAT it was, actually; from a descriptive point of view, it was "mild stomach pain, not helped by rest, by tea, by Rolaids, by ginger ale, by Pepto, by Sprite, by changing positions; alternating with repeated retching, gagging, hurling, Technicolor yawning; coupled with nightmares (when sleeping) and really painful and undignified intestinal occurrences (fortunately, only when waking) and highlighted by the repeated and ungratified wish for the mercy of Death." Also, intense sweating (possibly due to the 90-degree temperatures) and the puking out of my spleen.
Y'all, I was NEVER sick like this before...well, okay, I was--ONCE. And that was here. Which, if you recall, involved a week's hospitalization, two major surgical procedures, and a lot of misery. I've had opiate withdrawals easier than this week was, is what I'm saying here.
I thought a lot of things. What I did NOT think was "hm, I wonder if this has anything to do with trying to wean myself off the antidepressants?"
Well, it was. In a big way. More details when I'm at a computer that is NOT in a 90+-degree room--but I've learned a LOT these last couple of days, and I'm none too happy about any of it.
More soon. I'm fine now, fortunately...not unscathed, but fine. Oh--and pissed.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Neglectful Blogger is Neglectful
Although I must admit, the comments full of worry are kinda comforting.
So no, I have not fallen off the face of the earth, and no, I have not been neglecting you guys for CR, either--if I'm neglecting my blog and its readers for anything, it's for work, sleep, housecleaning, and Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. CR was only here for about ten days, this last time, and he's been gone for almost a week now. Right now, in fact, he's in the Bumblepoot Community Hospital and Turkey-Plucking Emporium, in the fine town of Bumblepoot, IN. They wanted to admit him for some tests--basically because his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous every time he'd go to the doctor's office; through text messages, he's told me that the results of the tests so far have been: his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous. I suspect there's more to it--they don't keep you for a full seven days just to repeat themselves--but he said it's all in the letters he's written from the hospital. (You may be thinking, "Aww, how cute! He wrote to her,"--well, this was under threat of death, and just so he had no excuses, I stamped a handful of envelopes and put my own address on them, and sent them off with him when he left on the Greyhound last Monday. Still haven't gotten a letter, but I'm thinking maybe by Tuesday one should appear.)
Everything in the CR department is wonderful, other than his health issues; we've talked through pretty much the whole history of our relationship, and he has clearly changed a LOT. And really? Even if only half of what he claims to have learned about himself is valid, that's still a vast improvement. Some of my friends have warned me to be careful about trusting him, or having any kind of emotional attachment to him. I see their point, but here's my side of the story: Even if the worst case scenario came to pass--if he ended up cheating on me again, or leaving me for whatever reason--I'd have nothing to be all tragic about. My heart would not be broken. Don't get me wrong--I love him dearly--but I've already lived without him for seven years. I'd be hurt if he left, of course, but after a few days I'd just dust myself off and find something else to do. I'm a lot older now than I was in 2002, and even in my worst depressions, I still know how to keep going. If he left me, sure I would miss him--but it wouldn't completely destroy me. I've already been down that road with him, so there's not much left about it to scare me.
Other than all that, my life has been deadly boring. Work is still an enormous stress, but I can leave it at the door when 5 PM rolls around. The kitties are fine--or as fine as demented-but-cute quadrupeds can manage to be. I really need to catch a picture of Marigold when she goes into her Foofy Diva mode--big plume of a tail in the air, chin up, stalking through the apartment as though HER name was on the lease. Snickers has developed an odd little habit--he follows me into the bathroom, then jumps on my lap while I'm...occupied, shall we say. At all other times, he steadfastly refuses to be a lap-cat...just when I'm having a sit-down does his cuddly side come in. And if he can't get to my lap, he jumps on the sink and puts his front paws on the top of my head, with his back paws on the sink. I don't know WHERE this cat came by his personality, but he is just weird and fun and amazing. And BadCat--who, in case I never mentioned it, was originally half CR's cat as well--has taken quite a liking to his prodigal half-owner, and will flop on his lap whenever the opportunity presents.
Let's see, what more is there to tell--oh, this one's good. I learned a very important lesson at about 2 AM last night, namely this: No matter what you have been dreaming about, or how much sense it makes at the instant you wake up, a can of Pepsi does not now, nor ever will, contain eyedrops. (I woke up and my contacts were stuck to my eyes from sleeping, as usual. I had been dreaming, I think, about putting drops in my eyes, and furthermore that's what I do the moment I wake up anyway, but I was a little groggy still--and so I grabbed the nearest round object, tipped my head back, and went to put a drop of saline in my eye. Well, Pepsi cans do NOT have dropper tips, and so the two drops I thought I was going to get in the corner of my left eye turned out to be about a quarter of a can of Pepsi in my eye, over my face, and down my shirt. You would imagine that pouring Pepsi into your eye would hurt insanely, and you would not be far wrong--for about two seconds. After that, it just felt cold and stupid, and other than a slight increase in the pile of laundry to do tomorrow, there was no permanent harm done--although I've definitely exceeded my quota of STOOPID for the month of May.
So yeah--I'm all well and good. I'm going to try to be more prolific in my writing here--besides which, I'm sure there will be more stories soon--but in the meantime, thanks for caring, for checking in, for reading my goofiness over and over. There's plenty more where that came from....I hope.
So no, I have not fallen off the face of the earth, and no, I have not been neglecting you guys for CR, either--if I'm neglecting my blog and its readers for anything, it's for work, sleep, housecleaning, and Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook. CR was only here for about ten days, this last time, and he's been gone for almost a week now. Right now, in fact, he's in the Bumblepoot Community Hospital and Turkey-Plucking Emporium, in the fine town of Bumblepoot, IN. They wanted to admit him for some tests--basically because his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous every time he'd go to the doctor's office; through text messages, he's told me that the results of the tests so far have been: his blood pressure and blood sugar were completely outrageous. I suspect there's more to it--they don't keep you for a full seven days just to repeat themselves--but he said it's all in the letters he's written from the hospital. (You may be thinking, "Aww, how cute! He wrote to her,"--well, this was under threat of death, and just so he had no excuses, I stamped a handful of envelopes and put my own address on them, and sent them off with him when he left on the Greyhound last Monday. Still haven't gotten a letter, but I'm thinking maybe by Tuesday one should appear.)
Everything in the CR department is wonderful, other than his health issues; we've talked through pretty much the whole history of our relationship, and he has clearly changed a LOT. And really? Even if only half of what he claims to have learned about himself is valid, that's still a vast improvement. Some of my friends have warned me to be careful about trusting him, or having any kind of emotional attachment to him. I see their point, but here's my side of the story: Even if the worst case scenario came to pass--if he ended up cheating on me again, or leaving me for whatever reason--I'd have nothing to be all tragic about. My heart would not be broken. Don't get me wrong--I love him dearly--but I've already lived without him for seven years. I'd be hurt if he left, of course, but after a few days I'd just dust myself off and find something else to do. I'm a lot older now than I was in 2002, and even in my worst depressions, I still know how to keep going. If he left me, sure I would miss him--but it wouldn't completely destroy me. I've already been down that road with him, so there's not much left about it to scare me.
Other than all that, my life has been deadly boring. Work is still an enormous stress, but I can leave it at the door when 5 PM rolls around. The kitties are fine--or as fine as demented-but-cute quadrupeds can manage to be. I really need to catch a picture of Marigold when she goes into her Foofy Diva mode--big plume of a tail in the air, chin up, stalking through the apartment as though HER name was on the lease. Snickers has developed an odd little habit--he follows me into the bathroom, then jumps on my lap while I'm...occupied, shall we say. At all other times, he steadfastly refuses to be a lap-cat...just when I'm having a sit-down does his cuddly side come in. And if he can't get to my lap, he jumps on the sink and puts his front paws on the top of my head, with his back paws on the sink. I don't know WHERE this cat came by his personality, but he is just weird and fun and amazing. And BadCat--who, in case I never mentioned it, was originally half CR's cat as well--has taken quite a liking to his prodigal half-owner, and will flop on his lap whenever the opportunity presents.
Let's see, what more is there to tell--oh, this one's good. I learned a very important lesson at about 2 AM last night, namely this: No matter what you have been dreaming about, or how much sense it makes at the instant you wake up, a can of Pepsi does not now, nor ever will, contain eyedrops. (I woke up and my contacts were stuck to my eyes from sleeping, as usual. I had been dreaming, I think, about putting drops in my eyes, and furthermore that's what I do the moment I wake up anyway, but I was a little groggy still--and so I grabbed the nearest round object, tipped my head back, and went to put a drop of saline in my eye. Well, Pepsi cans do NOT have dropper tips, and so the two drops I thought I was going to get in the corner of my left eye turned out to be about a quarter of a can of Pepsi in my eye, over my face, and down my shirt. You would imagine that pouring Pepsi into your eye would hurt insanely, and you would not be far wrong--for about two seconds. After that, it just felt cold and stupid, and other than a slight increase in the pile of laundry to do tomorrow, there was no permanent harm done--although I've definitely exceeded my quota of STOOPID for the month of May.
So yeah--I'm all well and good. I'm going to try to be more prolific in my writing here--besides which, I'm sure there will be more stories soon--but in the meantime, thanks for caring, for checking in, for reading my goofiness over and over. There's plenty more where that came from....I hope.
Friday, April 30, 2010
'Cuz I Said I'd Explain It
I probably, in the previous post, should have added one small codicil to my "spring in Chicago" note, namely this:
Spring in Chicago is one of the best...blah blah blah....UNTIL it gets to be about noon, and the temperature crosses the 80-degree mark and the building you're in STILL has not got a firm grasp of the concept of "air conditioning", and then the clouds come and trap all the gooey, sticky air in places that also contain ME. THEN I start thinking longingly of days in January.
But I'm still happy.
Slightly less-happy than yesterday, however, because honestly: who WOULDN'T be happy under the following circumstances?
It's like, 9 AM and the sun is shining and you're STILL awake--not "awake again" but STILL awake, as in, I have not gone to bed--because the night before was spent in long phone-and-IM conversations with a guy who, despite various of his flaws, is apparently crazy about me (yes, I mean CR--I suppose I didn't get too far into that whole story, but rest assured that all is well, mostly, and the bits that aren't awesome are those that are outside our control at this time.) and playing computer games, just hanging out and acting like .....well, like an unemployed person, or a college girl, or someone who didn't have to get up and go to work the next day, which I didn't. (Didn't what? Didn't have to get up AND didn't have to go to work. Now, if THAT's not the combination to aim for, I'd love to know what is.)
And so, when CR and I finally hung up, and after THAT when we finally signed off on the IMs, I thought about going to bed for an hour or two....but instead I just moved my car reservation up a couple of hours and drove to the clinic. In front of the clinic, there was a guy who asked me if I, or anyone I knew, would be interested in buying a washer and dryer. I told him no, thanks, and continued in.
And when THAT was done, and when I had finished my little bit of grocery shopping (You know, I love Peapod, but there are a few items they just don't have: Lipton Extra Noodle Soup With Chicken Broth is one of those items. They have the REGULAR noodle, but not EXTRA noodle. There's a MARKED diffference) I drove home, and dropped off the car, and carried my groceries upstairs and put them away amidst a congregation of thoroughly excited cats; and then I played Bejeweled for a while; and some hours later, I finally yawned enough times that I realized: time to go to bed.
Now see, the thing about me and sleep is, it tends to grab me rather suddenly and drop me in my traces. So for instance, when I woke up this morning, I found in bed next to me two chocolate Easter eggs I was unwrapping when I was suddenly attacked by somnolence. Fortunately they were still wrapped; I've had this happen with unwrapped ones, as well. And chocolate eggs? Are NOTHING, mess-wise, compared to a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. I never realized I made a fist in my sleep, until the first time I woke up with cream filling oozing between my fingers.
I woke up a couple of times between yesterday afternoon and this morning; but not many, I'll tell you that. And really, I would have been happy sleeping for a couple more hours, but it was time to get up and bumble through another workday. Since yesterday, really, involved way more "playing hooky" than "absent for a reason", I felt guilty enough to go in and act like a good employee today. (I had asked last Friday to take Thursday as a vacation day; I told them I'd made a doctors' appointment before my schedule had been changed to Mondays off instead of Thursdays. Really, though, I just knew I was going to have to go to the clinic, and wouldn't be in the mood to work. Now, we're not OBLIGATED to give a reason we're going to be out, but you kinda get the stink-eye if you don't.)
And yeah, there's something about not-entirely-policy-based absence that makes the morning seem a little sparklier, even in spring, even in Chicago. There was a lot more to the Happy than that, but since there are bits of it that trend toward that big "TOO MUCH INFO" zone off in the corner of the conversational map, we'll leave that one alone.
I will say this, though: I can't wait til CR comes back from Bumblefuck. He's got about three more weeks, he says, before everything's ready to go: his physical therapy overwith, his tax refund in hand, and that pesky little hospitalization his doctor wants, completed. (She wants to put him in the hospital to find out why his blood pressure is completely off the charts. Every time someone takes his blood pressure, he says, they try to admit him. Finally his doctor talked him into agreeing to go; now, it's just talking him into actually DOING it. And it looks like THAT task falls to lil' old me. I can't blame him for balking; I'd balk too, if I thought I was gonna hear the sort of shit he thinks he's gonna hear. And he can't blame me for nagging him, a little; if it was me, he'd nag too. Hell, he was practically ready to start nagging when I told him what MY blood-pressure was (135 over 82, but that was in the dentist's chair mere seconds before a large needle was to be jabbed into my jaw and a molar pried out with extreme prejudice. ANYBODY's B.P. would be a little high at THAT point, am I right? Yesterday at the clinic it was 127/80, which the nurse said was just fine.) I worry about CR; some of it is stress, but he's ALWAYS under stress. He worries more than anyone I know--and that's saying something.) Once all those things are done, though, he's coming back, this time for good. And then.....well, then -I- start getting to be the worried one, the one who's under stress. Because when CR comes back, everything in my life will be perfectly tolerable....except the Mom situation. The Mom situation is going to get ugly, possibly even UUUUUUGly. But I'm willing to stand up for myself, this time; hell, I'll be forty years old in a little more than a month, and if you can't live your own life when you're forty, when CAN you live it?
Til then, though, I think I'll just continue being happy.
Spring in Chicago is one of the best...blah blah blah....UNTIL it gets to be about noon, and the temperature crosses the 80-degree mark and the building you're in STILL has not got a firm grasp of the concept of "air conditioning", and then the clouds come and trap all the gooey, sticky air in places that also contain ME. THEN I start thinking longingly of days in January.
But I'm still happy.
Slightly less-happy than yesterday, however, because honestly: who WOULDN'T be happy under the following circumstances?
It's like, 9 AM and the sun is shining and you're STILL awake--not "awake again" but STILL awake, as in, I have not gone to bed--because the night before was spent in long phone-and-IM conversations with a guy who, despite various of his flaws, is apparently crazy about me (yes, I mean CR--I suppose I didn't get too far into that whole story, but rest assured that all is well, mostly, and the bits that aren't awesome are those that are outside our control at this time.) and playing computer games, just hanging out and acting like .....well, like an unemployed person, or a college girl, or someone who didn't have to get up and go to work the next day, which I didn't. (Didn't what? Didn't have to get up AND didn't have to go to work. Now, if THAT's not the combination to aim for, I'd love to know what is.)
And so, when CR and I finally hung up, and after THAT when we finally signed off on the IMs, I thought about going to bed for an hour or two....but instead I just moved my car reservation up a couple of hours and drove to the clinic. In front of the clinic, there was a guy who asked me if I, or anyone I knew, would be interested in buying a washer and dryer. I told him no, thanks, and continued in.
And when THAT was done, and when I had finished my little bit of grocery shopping (You know, I love Peapod, but there are a few items they just don't have: Lipton Extra Noodle Soup With Chicken Broth is one of those items. They have the REGULAR noodle, but not EXTRA noodle. There's a MARKED diffference) I drove home, and dropped off the car, and carried my groceries upstairs and put them away amidst a congregation of thoroughly excited cats; and then I played Bejeweled for a while; and some hours later, I finally yawned enough times that I realized: time to go to bed.
Now see, the thing about me and sleep is, it tends to grab me rather suddenly and drop me in my traces. So for instance, when I woke up this morning, I found in bed next to me two chocolate Easter eggs I was unwrapping when I was suddenly attacked by somnolence. Fortunately they were still wrapped; I've had this happen with unwrapped ones, as well. And chocolate eggs? Are NOTHING, mess-wise, compared to a Little Debbie Swiss Cake Roll. I never realized I made a fist in my sleep, until the first time I woke up with cream filling oozing between my fingers.
I woke up a couple of times between yesterday afternoon and this morning; but not many, I'll tell you that. And really, I would have been happy sleeping for a couple more hours, but it was time to get up and bumble through another workday. Since yesterday, really, involved way more "playing hooky" than "absent for a reason", I felt guilty enough to go in and act like a good employee today. (I had asked last Friday to take Thursday as a vacation day; I told them I'd made a doctors' appointment before my schedule had been changed to Mondays off instead of Thursdays. Really, though, I just knew I was going to have to go to the clinic, and wouldn't be in the mood to work. Now, we're not OBLIGATED to give a reason we're going to be out, but you kinda get the stink-eye if you don't.)
And yeah, there's something about not-entirely-policy-based absence that makes the morning seem a little sparklier, even in spring, even in Chicago. There was a lot more to the Happy than that, but since there are bits of it that trend toward that big "TOO MUCH INFO" zone off in the corner of the conversational map, we'll leave that one alone.
I will say this, though: I can't wait til CR comes back from Bumblefuck. He's got about three more weeks, he says, before everything's ready to go: his physical therapy overwith, his tax refund in hand, and that pesky little hospitalization his doctor wants, completed. (She wants to put him in the hospital to find out why his blood pressure is completely off the charts. Every time someone takes his blood pressure, he says, they try to admit him. Finally his doctor talked him into agreeing to go; now, it's just talking him into actually DOING it. And it looks like THAT task falls to lil' old me. I can't blame him for balking; I'd balk too, if I thought I was gonna hear the sort of shit he thinks he's gonna hear. And he can't blame me for nagging him, a little; if it was me, he'd nag too. Hell, he was practically ready to start nagging when I told him what MY blood-pressure was (135 over 82, but that was in the dentist's chair mere seconds before a large needle was to be jabbed into my jaw and a molar pried out with extreme prejudice. ANYBODY's B.P. would be a little high at THAT point, am I right? Yesterday at the clinic it was 127/80, which the nurse said was just fine.) I worry about CR; some of it is stress, but he's ALWAYS under stress. He worries more than anyone I know--and that's saying something.) Once all those things are done, though, he's coming back, this time for good. And then.....well, then -I- start getting to be the worried one, the one who's under stress. Because when CR comes back, everything in my life will be perfectly tolerable....except the Mom situation. The Mom situation is going to get ugly, possibly even UUUUUUGly. But I'm willing to stand up for myself, this time; hell, I'll be forty years old in a little more than a month, and if you can't live your own life when you're forty, when CAN you live it?
Til then, though, I think I'll just continue being happy.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Cryptic, But In a Good Way
Later on, perhaps, when I've actually been to sleep within the preceding 26 hours (a criterion to which now does not conform), I will be able to explain more about, offer reasons for, or otherwise expand upon, the following statement. But right now, once I have a Motrin and a Pepsi, I plan to be entirely unconscious within minutes, and so I will say only this for now:
What an awesome morning. Spring in Chicago is one of the best reasons to wish for a long life, and just at the moment I might be willing to give the human race in general the benefit of the doubt (except for the bitchy meat-department clerk at the Ashland and Roosevelt Jewel store, who was just unnecessarily bitchy when I asked her a basic question. Some people really do not like their jobs.)
In summary: Right now, I would have to say something very unusual for me....I think I'm HAPPY.
What an awesome morning. Spring in Chicago is one of the best reasons to wish for a long life, and just at the moment I might be willing to give the human race in general the benefit of the doubt (except for the bitchy meat-department clerk at the Ashland and Roosevelt Jewel store, who was just unnecessarily bitchy when I asked her a basic question. Some people really do not like their jobs.)
In summary: Right now, I would have to say something very unusual for me....I think I'm HAPPY.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)