I think I should have been born a dog. Preferably a Golden Retriever so I could eat all the food, sniff everything and just be happy all the time. (That is not a complete sentence, and I don’t care, but Goldens are like honey badgers in that sense, they just don’t give a fuck.)
I am a creature of habit. I get up, take Maverick to daycare, drink my coffee, write in my journals and go for a walk. About a month ago, my body decided to make other plans. There’s this lovely nerve that starts in your back and goes all the way to your foot – the sciatic nerve – and when it doesn’t feel happy, no one feels happy. Mine is not happy. After a few days of random jolts of pain, and feeling like someone grabbed my thigh and squeezed hard, off to the doctor I went. “aha!” he said, “you have a sciatic nerve flaring. I shall refer you to OSS.”
Off to OSS (Orthopaedic Services something) I go. “Aha!” said my lovely doctor there, “you have a sciatic nerve flariing! I shall send you to therapy.”
Off to therapy I go. Meanwhile, I hurt. Some days are worse than others and therapy is helping, but my leg isn’t reliable. Five minutes on the treadmill sent me to the sofa for 1/2 hour, after a liberal application of Voltarin gel (that stuff is great!).
This is not for sympathy, by the way. My mother used to tell us that if we wanted sympathy, we could find it in the dictionary, between shit and syphilis. (She was a woman of little patience.) It’s merely an observation that when my routine is disturbed, I walk around like I have no clue what to do with myself.
Well, the good thing is that I’ve been hoeing out a spare bedroom. Slowly, but it’s getting done. When your great nephew mentions coming to visit and you realize that you have 4 bedrooms and no place for a guest to sleep, it’s time to start clearing the hoard. (Don’t touch my books or yarn, and we’ll be fine.)
Also, much as I love Summer, allergies are kicking my ass today. I have sneezed so many times I think my brains need to be stuffed back up my nose.
I have been watching The Young and the Restless (or, as we call it, “the old and the listless”) and The Bold and the Beautiful for a very long time. I don’t watch regularly, but most of the time you can go for months and not really miss much. Currently B&B has become quite exciting, with the return of a wonderful villain, the return of a heroine, although this Taylor leaves me missing the old one, and the possible downfall, once again, of Brooke (the mattress) Logan. B&B is on at 1:30. My therapy has been scheduled for 1 or 1:30 every other day. Therapy is about 90 minutes so there’s no way I’m catching my soap, and no, we don’t DVR.
I was very excited on Tuesday because I had no therapy, Maverick was at daycare, Bear was at work and I could watch the soap all by myself. I got my iced coffee (it’s Summer) and my knitting, and turned on the tv and WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK. IS. THIS. SHIT?????????????????? My soap was pre-empted by the Jan 6th “hearings.” Really? Really? REALLY????????????????
I think I speak for a great many Americans who think that people wandering around the Capitol was far less of a “threat to democracy” than the “mostly peaceful protests” that occurred all summer freakin long. Does no one remember the riots around the Capitol in 2016 because Hillary lost? I’d be willing to bet that more damage was done to our democracy by that bullshit than on January 6th.
I’m over it.