It’s one of those nights at work where I’m glad I brought
two books. The wee small hours are normally quiet, although nothing is
guaranteed, and I’m too far away from the television to really hear it, and I
can’t be bothered, anyway.
I’m fighting major cramps, the kind that make you
want to curl up in a ball and cry until the pillow is all wet and soggy and
cold and gross. I’m also fighting a minor cold. My throat hurts and nothing
feels right. I’m bummed, also, because I have new drugs, new, really powerful
drugs that if I were at home I could take and then curl up in that pain-free
drug zone, but really, you don’t want the person answering 911 to be in that
zone. You want your cat in that zone, not a public servant. And the Big Pain
this month is landing smack dab in the 12 hours that I’m at work. So I ball up by myself over here in the corner and squinch my eyes shut and wait it out. By the time I
get home at 7am, I’ll be human again and won’t need the meds. That’s a good
thing. But it’s no fun right now.
Bah. I need to go back to acupuncture. I’ve been running,
and taking my calcium, and avoiding caffeine, blah blah blah. Acupuncture is
the best thing for this – I just have to get back into it. Need to find a good
Know of any?
Hey, I’m going back to dayshift! Did I tell you that? On
dayshift, I don’t get much knitting or reading done, but a twelve hour shift
flies by. And it should be pretty permanent, as I’ve got the seniority now to
keep it. Thank goodness. My two to three hour daily commute will be a
thing of the past; it’ll be a 25 minute door-to-door trip. Dang. That’ll save
me hours a day, in travel time alone. It pays 5% less because of
differential pay scale, but I’m sure the gas savings will make up for that. And
time! More time!
Oooh! I have no pain right now. Isn’t that the best feeling? When
the pain abates for a moment? Mmmm.
In comments, Lisa asked,
You have a good time a
lot of the time -it must be a gene! I think it’s wonderful to have that. I’m
not jealous but mildy curious as to how one can engineer their life in order to
achieve that. I haven’t a clue.
In answer, I’m not totally sure. I work at it. I really do. Also,
it really might be a gene, or a chemical composition in my body that I accidentally
inherited and really like – maybe I got some positivity gene. Not so much
Pollyanna Syndrome, but I can find lots of things to be glad about, even in the
midst of frustrating times.
And yes, suffering comes to everyone, so, dude, I believe in having
fun whenever you can. By that I don’t mean by throwing parties and going out to
functions and being social – I mean by knowing what you like to do and planning
time to do it. I do a lot of that. I’m selfish about it. I alert Lala when I
feel like I haven’t had “my time” to do fuck-all, and I claim the TV. Or I go
into the city and look into windows. Or I throw cheese at the dog, or spin, or
sit in the sun on the back porch, whatever makes my heart happy.
You gotta plan
that stuff, you can’t wait for happiness to find you, because it while it
sometimes surprises you and sweeps your off your feet unexpectedly, usually it’s
hanging out in the side yard, digging holes, burying bones. You have to call
it. You have to court it, plan for it, woo it when you wake up in the morning
and kiss it goodnight. Or maybe I mean woo yourself, kiss yourself. (I swear, I’m
not dipping into the pain meds; perhaps it’s the exhilaration of the pain
subsiding, natural endorphins kicking in, that’s making me write like this.)
do it, do plan for your own happiness. That means taking care of yourself,
physically. Giving yourself small nice things. Knowing what you like best,
whether that’s a color you put on the walls or the kind of tissue that makes
your nose happiest, and giving yourself time to enjoy them. Sit on the floor
with your fabulous dog (and she is fabulous, I know she is) or rub the pretty cat’s
belly or drink your really strong (or weak) coffee and look at your yellow (or
blue or green) walls and blow your nose with soft tissue and enjoy the moment.
I’m trying to meditate more, too. Do you KNOW how good that
is for you? All juju aside, it’s just good for the body, period.
Lisa also asks: I was wondering
if you rented your apartment? And what happened with the difficult man next
I did rent the apartment, to a
lovely ex-Peace Corps volunteer turned high school teacher. The difficult man
next door is still damn difficult. But things are slowly getting done and resolved at the place –
the roof is fixed, and we’re working on the deck as we speak. And it’s all
I’m going to read now. You do
something nice for yourself, okay?
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