I really like Midsomer Murders, too. I am seriously considering finding a new doctor, because mine just does not seem to get it at all.
I have been absent for a while, I know. It’s been a difficult non-winter. Ever since the non-surgery, really. I’ve been struggling with pain, which leads to isolation, which leads to depression, which leads to ‘can’t think of one thing to say when I look at my blog’. So absent it was. I was. I think I am getting better, but I could be just having a better day (night). My sleep schedule is so screwed up it’s not even in the realm of controllable. I haven’t been out of the house in about three weeks. I did go downstairs and get my mail once. My life is soooo interesting.
Then there is the political climate in my country. I find it very disturbing, and feel hopeless as far as doing anything about it. Hate, prejudice, blame-the-victim, all seem to be running rampant in the discourse. This is NOT a good sign. No. No it isn’t. It is quite scary, when you think about it. All the progress that’s been made in recent decades is teetering on the brink of being lost. It makes me sad.
Okay, I guess I’m not actually any better, but if I have any readers left, I’m still here. Just having a hard time lately. Send me something cheerful in the comments. I need it. Thanks.
Or Freezer? It was 8 degrees yesterday. I am wearing jeans, my regular white socks topped with my big fuzzy Santa socks, a tee shirt, a heavy pullover, and a light but warm pullover on top of that. And I’m still cold. I am darned if I’m going to turn the heat above 66, though. Sixty-six is balmy at this time of year, right? I would have the windows open if it was 66 degrees outside. So anyway, I have my electric fireplace going, and use my little portable heater/fan to keep my feet warm at my desk. I love winter. I want SNOW, dammit! SNOW, do you hear me?
On the illness front, being sick sucks, as you all know by now, I’m sure. My sleep schedule is so screwed up that I am asleep more than I’m awake, and I sleep mostly during the day, regardless of what I try to get to sleep at night. My body either thinks I’m still a kid, praying for dawn so I wouldn’t have to be afraid of my dad coming home drunk, or that I am still working nights, which I only did for a year about fifteen years ago. Come on body, get with the program. This is depressing me, I’ve realized. I am feeling once again that I have no control over my life at all. Can’t even sleep at night like a normal person. I’m just here in my little box, time and life passing me by, with no hope and no purpose. This really stinks.
I’ve thought back to other times I’ve felt like this, and told myself that it’s time to change things, but it never worked. The illness always wins. Always. I fight, and I fight, and I try to be normal, and I pretend to be normal, but it always is just the same old same old. My body’s illness runs my life. I’m out of ideas. I want to live, not just exist, and I cannot seem to manage that. So this is the whiny post for today, folks. I’ll be better, now that I’ve put it out there. Thanks for reading, if anyone is still reading. 🙂
UPDATE: And it’s snowing. Finally.