The rumors of my alien abduction have been enormously exaggerated.
I am, in fact, still here. So lethargic I wonder if I'm anemic or maybe have mono. Or maybe I'm just in one of those moods.
I've been dragging bills and thank you cards and stationary of other sorts back and forth from work and not even once getting a chance to pull them out and do something about them. The same goes for the socks I had on the needles...had being the operative word here. Totally hit complete ennui state with that one.
Maybe it's that "time of the year." Yeah, taxes smaxes, mine are done and have been done for over a month, but, hello? IRS? You lie when you say electronic filing = faster returns, because I am still waiting. And now I have to call, or so my tax guy told me to (yeah, I work in accounting but I don't do my own taxes...I used to call that the uber-lazy factor, now I wholeheartedly say it's due to the safety of internal controls). See, apparently no information regarding my filing/taxes can be found via the quick "status of your return" page. Yet another thing to put on my "to do" list that just keeps getting longer.
What I really mean is that I'm burnt out...of being sick, of winter, of having my office torn apart by the yearly audit, of my life right now. I need a break from it all.
And then there's the quiet time that my brain spends mulling over all the bad and wrong and dark thoughts that I need to stay buried when I'm knitting (or unknitting) or cooking or not-quite-reading...you know, when you're reading something easy like The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor (I warn you now, it's a trilogy...yes, I went out and got the second book yesterday). You know, books that are light and easy to get through and leave the rest of your brain to muddle through the thoughts you wish would stay locked up deep inside you.
Or worse, the super quiet time in the Epsom salt bath.
Okay, can someone tell me why it took me 36 years to find out about Epsom salt? It's not just for old peoples' foot baths! It's like the wonder-cure for all your ails! I wanted to wait a bit before I went on my soapbox and preached about the new snake oil, but dudes! It is doing my broken body good!
See, this time of year? The weather is not my friend. Yeah, there are allergens, there are always those, but the extreme weather shifts do a number on my multiply layered injuries (damaged knees from fencing, busted tailbone from crossing the Pacific Ocean to Hawai'i, busted hand/arm from catching my fully-loaded (i.e. all my teaching stuff) bike that one time in my classroom, busted hip from being forced off the road that one time on the way to sign my divorce papers, busted sternum/elbow/back from the orange F150 that I was almost killed by a couple years ago in the rain when biking home).
So instead of drowning in some probably-expired vicodin cocktail, I dragged my sorry self to the local Bartell's Drugs and bought some of the magical salt to see if it could do something for me. And man, does it ever!
I sit in my too-shallow tub letting my hip and shoulder take turns being underwater (if you too have access to a too-shallow tub you know exactly what I'm talking about), as I watch the time tick away....Twelve minutes minimum sitting there listening to myself breathe and trying not to get caught up in all the thoughts that are trying to take over my brain...pretending they are being sucked out of my system along with the swelling and the toxins and whatever else the Epsom salt promises to do on the package labeling.
I know I sound bat-shit insane this morning. I think I shall blame a big chunk of this on the paint fumes. Remember the fire in my building? They've finally gotten around to the painting stage of the repair job. We have crammed a sacrificial towel in the crack under our front door to try to keep most of the fumes out. Seeing as it's all of 40 degrees outside, it's kinda hard to keep a window open so we don't die of fumes inhalation...so instead you get posts like these.
Happy Monday.
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