Thursday, January 14, 2016

If This Is Tuesday, It Must Be Belgium

Pain all over. Exhaustion. Depression. Palpitations. Irritability. Ha! It must be Wednesday!

Actually pain is hovering around a four, although I feel a spike coming in my left arm. Today's official fibromyalgia bugaboo is exhaustion.  I feel like an overused mophead. Just squeeze me out and get it over with. Pah!! There goes my back; this is now officially a six.

The exhaustion has been a huge problem the past week or so. Getting out of bed, washing up, creeping downstairs - simple, normal activities wearing me out, knocking me down and then kicking me in the chops. I pressed the Keurig's  "on" button, and I'm ready for a nap. But there's no time for a nap - I have an appointment with He-Who-Preserves-My-Sanity; now all I have to do is remember how to get to his office. Damn, I must have lost my sense of direction in the divorce. Seventeen years with the same therapist and I run the risk of getting lost. WTF is that? I always had the best sense of direction, back to when I was a kid in Brooklyn. The first and only time my mother drove to my Aunt Ceil's house in Bellmore, I was her navigator, despite the fact that I wouldn't be eligible to get a learner's permit for 8 more years. Mom had NO sense of direction; she once got lost driving in our own neighborhood (really, how can you get lost on Hungry Harbor Road?) My beloved husband has many talents, but navigation is not one of them. For all of our long drives, I always played Pavel Chekov to his Hikaru Sulu. Apparently my navigating talent has disappeared into the same fog as my splendid vocabulary, awesome spelling, and sometimes-photographic memory.  All I can say is CRAP. I'm too tired to even dig out my best profanity.

The big news is that I bought a spiral slicer, aka The Spiralizer. Now I can make spaghetti noodles out of carrots and zucchini. I already have a recipe in mind; stay tuned.

But now it is Thursday, and I woke to learn that we did not win the Powerball lottery and that actor Alan Rickman has passed away. As much as I loved the Harry Potter books, I could never get into the movies (cognitive overload), and I always disliked Snape, but I remember Alan Rickman from fun movies like Dogma and Galaxy Quest, in which he got to play good guys. As to the Powerball, I'm only sorry we are finished playing the game "what will we do with all that money?" Until next time ...

Oh, and congratulations to my niece Rachel, who actually won something.  Uhh, okay, she still has to go to work tomorrow. But winning even a small amount of money is better than a slap in the face with a wet flounder. Gotta put things in perspective.

All the trees are brown, and the sky is gray, which matches my mood. Maybe I'll just stay in bed today. Maybe I'll give Chelsea a bath; poor little widget has a terrible skin condition and the bath helps. Maybe I will knit ...

Nope, I haven't forgotten these socks; in fact, I finished the leg section and the heel, and I'm ready to start turning the heel, a process the Yarn Harlot refers to as "mythical." I just think it's very cool.

Maybe I will do some coloring; I finished a couple of projects just before the cruise, and I'm working on a new flower mandala.

Early stages picture; it's almost done now.

My iPad is acting strangely, freezing up for no good reason, failing to save what it said it saved, that sort of thing. This iPad is my window on the world, the way I stay connected to the rest of humanity, and any sort of cyber-illness makes me slightly crazy. As if I need anything else to push me over the border.

I really needed to feel useful today, so - THE WINNER IS:

Chelsea Rose Rothfeld, de-fleaed (at least for the next hour), clean and fluffy, her poor wretched skin disorder temporarily under control.

Today was, relatively speaking, the kind of day where I could definitively say, "It didn't suck." I hope your day was as good as mine.

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