Macrame Mae


I think I have decided I got sunburnt.  And there’s no more worry to have than that.  And that has been the big quandary/excitement of the day.  I have been thinking that it’s an allergic reaction of some kind, but I completely forgot how yesterday I traipsed around under a blazing sun with no sunscreen on as though it were the most overcast day of the year.  And now, my face is cooked.  Itching and zinging and crying out for a cold compress, some cucumber slices, some sort of gel and gauze.  Have to see what we can do about that.

Time to get a bath in, try and do something with this hair, figure out – and not in optimistic terms – exactly what I’m going to eat tomorrow, what I will wear.  Brush the teeth.  Somehow just typing it out feels like a step towards getting these crucial, but bothersome items completed.

I got up early enough this morning to get done what I wanted, and because things were laid out, I sort of eased my way into the world of the living, but there was no real energy.  No real attack pattern.  No getting on the bike.  A continuation of the general malaise.  It’s made me realize, after today’s pleasant retreat towards oblivion that status quo isn’t enough.

There has to be a defeat of the usual inertia.  I can’t be trying to get everything done at 11:00p.m. and awake until 1:30 and fucked up come morning.  I would really prefer to have a bit more agency than that.  So before I put on another episode of So Who Do You Think You Are, I need to get myself in order and figure out something to talk about here.

So I guess here is what I’m thinking about now right now as I try and finish this up.

I love how pretty much everything in life relates back to Chaucer. I am grateful for modern medicine helping strong women making it through tough surgeries.  Wouldn’t it be nice if I took charge of the things I am wavering on again tomorrow, building on what I did today, releasing myself from the have to and the necessary and the towering pile of crap Mildred wants to serve up to keep me stupid and fallow.

I might want to wear my Bee costume to ComicCon.  That I should even go to ComicCon this year.  There really needs to be something specific as far as programming, but I’ve never gone in costume and that might be fun.   My friends are all twittering about bathroom catastrophes in their places of employment.  That’s another small thing that I don’t realize is such a wonderful thing forgotten in old job versus new job…but at least I no longer have to flash the peace sign and say “It’s a 2-holer.” ten to twenty times a day.

And sure, I’d love to be there, with you, figuring this out, telling you what I think.  But I’m not so I’ll just wish you well in my mind as though these are the same things.

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