I left Facebook a week or so ago now as Don told me it would make me a better person not to argue with rednecks. And yeah, he is right, though my natural inclination is to believe that the perspectives I brought to the conversation were sometimes new or maybe made people think a bit more deeply about an issue. And maybe that is true. One thing I have recognized in myself over the past several days is my need to scream. Not audibly, mind you, but I definitely need a place to vent my confusion as to what the hell happened to the morons in this country as their decision-making skills I have literally no confidence in. So, as I was staring into the dark this morning I realized I have more than a few articles I am prepared to write, and one other project that definitely needs legs.
One article is the city vs country people and how fucking insane it is that Don works out there in hateful land, you know, the places where people who don't get along with people and don't want to get along live in infamy--letting their threat of being shot the greeting ...
Yesterday was one of those days you don't want to live if you had a choice. I worked in the morning, and at my first lunch break, decided to jump in the shower. I had an appointment with the plastic surgeon that afternoon so decided it was time to try--man I cannot tell you the hit to my ego in recognizing literally we have nobody, really, but each other? But I took a shower because I rarely leave the house and it seemed like the right thing to do. Get somewhat presentable since I WAS in fact, leaving the house.
So my blueberry, err, grape blood blister decided to pop during said shower and proceeded to fill the water at my feet with blood that continued to pour and pulse out of the blister even long after it was drained. It WOULDN'T STOP. It just keep going and I am in the shower trying to clean the non bloody parts and rinse those off with one hand while the other held my head. It really never slowed down and if you ever get a wound on our head near the artery/vein whatever it was...it will literally just keep going until it ...
So...I was going to write yesterday but then got freaked out about jinxing us in our path. And he did ask for wine when I had him make that loin for dinner--mashed up turnips and potatoes with an instant pot pork loin cooked in 20 minutes---and I won the argument because--I have been sleeping, guys. This is a new thing for me, and clearly my liver was the thing waking up at 3 am every night, ready to start a new day, one day closer to its end...there definitely is no way to survive favorably in a condition like that---and maybe life can keep going on this way, pleasant and not divided--the days are a little easier to bear if they aren't punctuated by bullshit, easier to manifest out of the bottom of a wine bottle than the two of us, jaws open watching the Olympics, readily aware of our own shortcomings as human beings, left out in the rain, forgotten buckets of nothing more than we're not.
I've got a new goal--err, goals. Don considers the idea of a lottery in a different way than I do sometimes, and that is okay...I think it's a better idea than most I've ...
