I don’t feel great. It’s snowing. I haven’t eaten enough and what I’ve eaten has been bad news. Caffeinated and sugary or salty. I even quasi-tried today and got a salad – but it was a caesar salad which was so salty that the lettuce didn’t seem to play a role at all. My butt’s numb in this one spot. I feel anxious and unpleasant and squinty-eyed. Like all the bad eating’s come home to roost on this one day. Like all of the things that bother me in a hypochondriacal sort of way are bothering me tenfold today and don’t have the glint of make-believe. Raw frustration and self-concern that I can’t calm down about beyond ways in which I must calm down because life demands it.
It is not a matter of extrication. A quiet day for both of us – quiet for me because I was forgetting meetings I was meant to be at and having conversations that my obnoxious mind held out ominously as a first strike. That I will have to do an overnight stay with these folks somewhere not at my home is a new fact of life and I am curious about that and tired of endless meetings and reasoning I don’t understand. Something in me was grumpy for an absence of a reply, for replies to others, for all of these unfortunate things that plague me with worry and woe. Still, I completed the day and I was setting deadlines and bright-lines and litmus tests for affection. If he won’t give me a bit more sugar, I’ll have to say something. I don’t want to be like this. I don’t want to be such a Veruca Salt. I…I just need that vote of confidence, but I can’t seem to find the ballot box.
Then, of course, there was a flail towards me as though my innermost were being broadcast, live, and I flailed back thinking oh, geez, romance and compliments, how nice. But then, I think, my greedy little raccoon eyes and I wanted to have a different sort of talk than the one we ended up having and then my concerns blossomed anew.
I have watched the second episode of Handmaid’s Tale, am hoping to use the weekend to catch up with Mystery Science Theatre 3000 or at least get a bit further into it. Maybe if the snow is as minimal as it currently appears, going and doing some shopping, grabbing a couple mildly healthy items. Arse on bike for a mildly short amount of time.
Writing. Finding a way and place to sit to do these wonders. Cleaning, doing laundry, minding the manor a bit. Just giving myself a break where I can. I would really love to have a break from my own strain. This is the joy of a Saturday yet to pass. A freedom on the wing that I will not take for granted.
I’m going to see what sleep can do. Magic, I hope, on all of these matters.