Poudre Valley Dropoff

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I was going to try and figure out a way to write the single most compelling blog post about philatelism and/or gardening that has ever been written.  It would not have been an extraordinary feat, but it would have likely driven me to such heights of aggressive, existential ennui that I would be forced to commit some sort of violent act to reassert my sense of humanity so I have foregone it and am instead going to try and just be myself.

For whatever that’s worth.

I have colored.  It was a day of work that required coming home and coloring flowers.  I need more colors so I bought a giant box of more markers, another coloring book and, because it was on sale and my paperwork is all akimbo, a box of bankers’ boxes to pull out last year’s files so that this year’s don’t get mixed up in them.  I am calm enough as I inhale the still lingering fumes from my recently stained desk.  I have turned off all of the distractions…almost all of the distractions…so that I can get this done, watch the final episode of season one of Grantchester so I can talk to my friend about it, probably color some more while I do it, then, hopefully take a bath somewhere in here, find some article of clothing fit to wear in the year’s first snowstorm that is due to happen tonight as we sleep, suss out tomorrow’s plan for lunch as I do not think I can handle another day of Panera.

Oooh, you can hear the rain spattering.   The sky’s violent reasserting that we do have seasons and it is fall and things end, unequivocally.

I got a message from my health insurance folks indicating that they have provided me with some sort of health checklist and while I am absolutely petrified down to my gizzards and my marrows and my phalanges about going to the doctor, I am rather keen on checklists.  I like to have done, even if I hate the idea of doing. I have not opened the checklist but I am rather aware of the fact that I probably can’t avoid going to the doctor for the rest of time.  Despite having been related to people who rarely ever go.  I am also noting the fact that my negative, horrified, duck under the desk and hide reaction has to be the new gauge for what it is that I need to do.

I feel an intense NO when I try and contemplate being the sort of person who doesn’t shut down when the conversation of maintaining one’s health comes up, so I am marinating in the idea of getting a check-up, getting a plan from a doctor about, you know, like trying to lose weight rather just cobbling together something on my own which is sort of the post-Christmas idea.  If I survive that long.   I can only expect to survive that long.

Do you remember that night, taking the long walk across campus, back to the dorm?  It was fall, and dark, and a little bit frightening.  Not excessively because I was beyond used to being alone, but I knew it was going to be over soon, I knew I was graduating and I knew nothing beyond that point.   I told myself I was going to make my life something amazing.

We survived.  We are surviving.  We will survive.

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