Enter Creator: Photographer: Nickolay Khoroshkov
Copyright: Copyright:Nickolay Khoroshkov
Information extracted from IPTC Photo Metadata.a caption Wikipedia Creative Commons
My sleep pattern is really off — even for me. It’s stress and tension and worry and current affairs. It’s not quite 5 a.m., and I’ve been up for well over an hour.
For most of my adult life, I was a night owl. Then I entered the halcyon days of going to bed at 10 p.m. with a book and waking at 6 or 7 a.m. Then the Evil Menopause occurred, and sleep became elusive. I’m either past that or have made peace with it, but now I’m stuck on the to-bed-by-8 and up at 4 a.m. pattern. This is a problem.
It’s even more of a problem now because between 8 p.m. and 4 a.m. I’m up multiple times. For water, to pee, to stare at the screen, to stare at the wall. My mind churns, and my spirit is disturbed.
With current affairs being what they are (mayhem), I am sleep deprived. I punctuate my late afternoon with a long nap, but I don’t think I’m getting enough hours in a row. My dreams are vivid and, often, disturbing. Working, writing, and tending to life’s daily chores are hard.
I need some peace, but that seems unlikely. So. I need to learn how to navigate this turmoil. These are momentous times — I need to be sharp.
I’m settling into this.
I haven’t had much to talk about. I work. I clean. I eat. I nap. I sleep. Day in and day out.
Yesterday, a friend approached me with a writing project. Woo Hoo! I need assignments to write and this one even came with a writing prompt.
“and she spilled it before he could tell her no” — prompt from Bobby Lee Messer
I had to turn that into a 90-second spoken word story. I did. It takes a long while to write 250 cohesive and coherent words. I figure I’ve got 5 hours and change into the latest draft. Shorter is harder.
Tonight, I’m kinda embarrassed to say, I broke quarantine and had my mom in for dinner. I cooked tacos. By the time I carried them down the hill they were going to be cold. We can’t be having cold (and wet, it’s raining) tacos. So, we sat almost six feet apart and had dinner together. You may recall that tacos My Way are my favorite meal.
It was nice to have an in-person conversation. I did, however, unceremoniously throw her out once we were both eating. It’s one thing to bend rules. It’s another to shatter them.
It’s Day 36. I’ve spent the day napping and cleaning.
Now, I have my Youtube playing on the Big Stupid Stupid TV through the Bose Speakers. It’s all good.
There’s nothing better than Boot Scootin’ Boogie at ear-deafening levels with no neighbors to complain. Get down, turn around, let’s go boot scootin’ Get down turn around get down turn around, boot scooting boogie.
Yee haw………….where are my cowboy boots?
Nothing to say.
Nothing going on.
It’s technically the weekend and I’m going to clean house. I may go foraging for lettuce and other produce, bread and milk tomorrow.
There could be 6 more weeks of this. Six. More. Weeks.
They’re talking about opening up the country. My goodness. We’re nowhere near ready t do that. At the very least, we need widescale testing before that happens. I am very worried about what passes for leadership in this country.
I went into the office today to water my plants and found my boss. Six feet apart, we had a rambling conversation just like old times. Except I didn’t hug her when I left.
I’ve had five-minute conversations with my mother as I handed her groceries or a full dinner plate, but this is the first real sit-down and just talk conversation I’ve had in days and days.
It was nice.
I hope to do it again. Regularly. Daily even.
I’m weary of this, but worry we’re rushing too quickly into opening things back up. The second wave of the Spanish Influenza was far more deadlier than the first. Let’s hope that was a lesson learned. Let’s hope that science and reason prevail.
When I was a preteen, I took to sitting in my closet when I was upset or overwhelmed or had stuff to think about. It concerned my parents. They made fun of me but took turns going “to see what’s wrong with Connie now.”
It wasn’t until I was much older that I discovered many folks, particularly women, used the closet to collect themselves. It lends a whole new meaning to “in the closet.” I must have had the only mother so not inclined.
I now have 2400 sq. ft. of living space in which I live alone, but even so, I have nooks and crannies set aside for alone time. Spaces where I can think and concentrate. The kitchen is far too busy. The bedroom puts me to sleep. The study is for work. Ah, but the guest room is for dreaming and the nook by the bay window is for reading and thinking. The roll-top desk is for the daily information gathering and the elephant table is for meditation. I still have my secret places hidden in plain sight in my home. I don’t need the closets which is a good thing as they are out of control.
It’s good to be alone. I am now mostly enjoying self-isolating. I may be a bit sat when it’s over. I have all the downtime I ever needed and the alone time plus some. Today was my day to go to the office and water my plants. I didn’t feel like it. Maybe tomorrow I can make myself leave the house.
There is much to think on. I hope. I think. I certainly hope that this is a wake-up call for us. The Great Sequestration of 2020 will teach us something – what’s important and what’s not. That being alone with your thoughts is not just valuable, but necessary. That we have been far too busy with unimportant minutiae that saps our energy and leaves us sitting in closets to collect ourselves. Here’s to the roaring 20s of self-actualization and contentment.
Some time ago, I wrote the infamous Why I Blame My Mother For My Shoe Fixation post.
Having an Easter outfit with new shoes was pretty routine. I’ve carried it into my later years even though I don’t attend church.
There will be no Easter outfit or Easter shoes this year. Or an Easter dinner though I am playing around with the idea of making scalloped potatoes on Sunday.
I did order my mom an Easter basket which they kindly delivered yesterday. She was tickled, but still and all it just doesn’t feel like Easter.
I’m growing weary of this quarantine, but I am still suffering it happily. The alternative is death and destruction and in this time of Easter, we are to focus on life. So maybe I’ll plan the Out of Quarantine Outfit and new shoes