I started this day off early, and with a bang. Sort of. It was a loud crash as I dropped a plate on the floor. It shattered, along with my brain (temporarily). I keep saying I am determined to beat this medication at its own game, however, every week when I up the dose, it wins. It’s like the Serena Williams of fucking meds I tell you. It doesn’t help that the other half is on nights, so the more I attempt at being quiet the louder I am. We all know that Murphy’s Law. Also, those who know me are aware of my severe deficit in ‘quiet’. Here I am attempting to pick up the shattered pieces of the plate that have flung themselves all over my kitchen when I realize I forgot what I was doing–in the middle of doing it! I went to ask my son for the broom and dustpan and couldn’t recall their names. So I stood there. For what seemed an eternity. And I started craving a salad. The kind with Kalamata olives and parmesan cheese, and cool crisp lettuce with cucumbers and tomatoes, and purple onions….oh ya, where was I?
It’s almost August in “Beautiful British Columbia”, and we are shrouded in thick smoke, a heat wave that would be remarkable if it weren’t for said smoke, and I am so sick of spending my days alone with yet another book or ‘project’ that is supposed to placate me during this time of ‘healing’. You could say it’s the summertime blues. The long, hot dog days of summer are here and I wish I were on a lake somewhere, doing something adventerous. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be adventerous! I would take sitting on a beach eating cherries and perfecting my sunburn. I believe the start of August is always the time we feel that little twinge in our hearts knowing that summer is coming to an end. Stupid, I know, because we haven’t even started August and here I sit with a case of the blues.
Knowing winter is here soon enough has me breaking out in hives; although, to be fair, that means the NFL season is underway and that gives me great comfort. I don’t watch alot of television and the stuff I do watch I binged on already. Another bright note–‘Ray Donovan’s new season starts next week–but that doesn’t help me jump out of the great pit of wallow and self-pity I dug myself today. I would like to sit in it and pout a little. Just for the day.
I didn’t exactly sit in the pit. I fell asleep in it. I could call it a nap only it was 4 hours long and I woke up to the sound of my husband and child heating up their dinner in the microwave. I thought I would never find myself eating what they did, but here I sit. Even with some doctoring up, it still tastes like loneliness and bachelors.
Please feel free to remind me that tomorrow is a new day and remind me that life could be way worse. I could be one of many British Columbian’s who lost their homes to the wildfires raging in our province, or living on the streets, or battling cancer and fighting to live for another day. There are so many worse things to be fighting through; I do know this and it usually helps me get through the tough days with gratitude. That and friends stopping by. With alcohol.
This was #4 – “Summertime Blues” by Eddie Cochrane. Which, by the way, is an excellent song. It reminded me of long summer days playing chess with my sister while mom’s ‘oldies’ radio station played on as the soundtrack.