I just can’t get it together this week, y’all. I feel like an octopus. Like all 13 of my tentacles are moving in different directions and that I’m just floating around and I’m squishy and I shoot out radium and people are incredibly scared of me. I might not 100% know what an octopus is. But I know I feel all out of sorts today. I felt that way yesterday too. And the day before that and the day before that. Do you think octopus have calendars? Is is octopus or octopi? I just don’t know.
Do you know it’s been almost a year since I’ve eaten in a restaurant? That’s weird.
The second semester of my MFA program started and I feel dumb. Incapable. The first time in grad school I felt better in the second semester. I was really counting on that better.
I made white chicken chili for the first time ever and I was really excited about it and I never even got to eat any of it because I was on FB blocking newly discovered relatives who I really wish weren’t relatives.
The clothes I bought for Jackson in August do not fit him anymore.
My husband and the realtor and the mortgage guy and that house that I want, but damn it half a million dollars sounds like a lot of money. Too much money.
I hope my mom isn’t disappointed that the guy she wanted to be my dad turned out not to be my dad. Two dead dads this week.
I keep picking up the phone to call my friends, then putting it back on my desk. I want to tell them I love them and I am okay, but I’m doing this cleaning of my office and this cleaning of my heart and it’s hard.
Do I need this rice cooker? Only if I start cooking rice.
This shot I have to give myself to make the pain go away is painful. Jerimiah will have to shoot me. it burns and stings and I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m always surprised. All week.
The housekeeper came and she made the house shine and then it rained and the dogs went outside and the house doesn’t shine and she isn’t back yet and I feel guilt.
The computer needs updated, the Zoom needs updated, there was a man putting “Covid is a hoax” stickers on our mailbox.
The doctor said my liver enzymes are up and I can’t take pain medication for three weeks. The doctor said I need a break. The doctor wants to run more tests.
The world keeps spinning and spinning and spinning. Even when I just want to stop for a minute.