I should be packing. Am I packing? No. Not at this moment. I am not packing. I will be packing soon. It has been a full, full day. I had to go to town and pick up things. Things I need. Plus, take Mr. Moon to get his rental car. I keep thinking that packing is going to be a breeze. I am not taking much in the way of clothes. A few dresses. Two skirts. Maybe two shirts. Underwear. Etc.
Also (and here it gets a bit more silly): Imodium, sun screen, bug repellant (because ZIKA! which I probably already have), ear plugs, herbal sleep aid, Benadryl, band-aids, Neosporin, Ibuprofen, Alka-Seltzer.
Plus, some other stuff.
I will be the nurse. Haha!
So today I was getting out of my car at the Walgreens and a car went by and a guy yelled out the window, "Where's my crack?!"
And I was like, "Dude, I have no idea where your crack is. Whoa. Maybe I'm at the wrong Walgreens." While I was waiting on my prescription (for 10 Valiums) a man in a wheel chair came up to me, right in my personal space and demanded that I let him use my phone. I had just heard the pharmacist tell him that he could use their phone in a minute.
"The pharmacist just said you could use his phone," I told the guy.
"NO! LET ME USE YOUR PHONE!"
Part of me was like, He's in a wheelchair. I should let him use my phone and part of me was like, I don't care if he's in a wheelchair. He's fucking rude.
Luckily, just then the pharmacist called out, "Miss Mary!" and then put the phone where the guy could use it.
Boy. I was grateful.
So. I was called "Miss Mary" three times today. Once by the much younger receptionist at the Nurse Practitioner's office. Once at the pharmacy where I get my hormones, by a woman about the same age as I am. The third time, yes, at the Walgreens by the pharmacist there and he was a younger Asian man with an accent. Asian accent. Don't ask me what kind. I'm an American. I don't know shit. I feel bad about that but I don't.
Lord. I must look so old these days. Here in the south, we often use the honorarium "Miss" in front of a woman's first name when she gets old. I do it myself.
Guess it's my time and my turn. I don't really mind it. It's sort of sweet. Better than being addressed as "Hey old lady!" I guess.
As in, "Hey old lady, WHERE'S MY CRACK?"
At least crack guy didn't say that.
Okay. There's that story.
Mr. Moon has gone to auction. He did not seem nearly depressed enough about my leaving for a week if you ask me.
"Do you love me?" I asked him after I kissed him good-bye.
"Yes. I love you," he said. Not in an overly tender way, either.
"But do you REALLY love me?"
"Yes. I really, really love you." At this point, I could tell he did not want to be questioned further about the matter and was ready to get on the road to Orlando.
I'm pathetic. You'd think after thirty-three years of being with him, I'd be a little more sure of this sort of thing.
But I'm not.
Did you hear that interview on NPR with the guy who is an expert on fish sentience?
I give the fuck up.
Not only do fish feel pain (and did we really doubt that?) but farmed salmon often get so depressed that they "give up on life."
What does that mean? Do they drown themselves?
I don't mean to make a joke about this. It's not funny. And to be honest- meat eating is absolutely a deep moral issue. I know it. You know it.
I was discussing this with May a little while ago. She does eat some fish but hasn't eaten meat-meat since she was about twelve. We decided that the most guilt-free animal protein on the planet is the eggs my chickens lay. I do not ask them to lay eggs, I do not force them to lay eggs, I do not constrain or restrain them to lay eggs. They simply lay eggs and then get up and leave them. They don't seem to care a whit that I steal them. Not one bit.
Not a whit nor a bit.
The sun is going down. It's the Golden Hour.
I talked to Lis this morning and we made a mutual vow not to allow each other to either eat or drink too much so that we will be alert and peppy and so forth.
I'll let you know how that goes. Of course Lis, being a musician, has no problem staying up until the wee hours. Her problem is going to sleep at a reasonable time.
"Reasonable," by my definition, being before midnight.
I, on the other hand, frequently take a two-hour nap in the afternoon so that I can stay awake until, oh, say 10:30.
Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration but not by much.
Laundry. Packing. Supper.
I should eat a damn salad for supper. Or leftover green beans and rice. Maybe an egg.
Does reading these posts cause anxiety in the reader?
I hope not. I have enough for all of us.
More than enough.
If I pack, I'm really going, right?
I better pack.
Reading this certainly did not cause me anxiety. I am regularly called miss Gail at work, I'm glad they don't call me old lady, maybe they do behind my back but so what? GailReplyDelete
Danielle used to call me Miss Jo sometimes, which was cute, but I actually think it was to do with German formalities. Which don't exist in my world.ReplyDelete
Packing is a curse. There should be a service. Or some Harry Potteresque thing where you just point at stuff and it flies into your suitcase. Holiday anxiety is a bitch, I have it too. Blehhh. I have no god advice except it always gets done so you may as well just do it. Lists help. Channel Jessie!
Your posts don't make me anxious. Though I did just see a picture of a fish that either swam into a jellyfish the same size as it and got stuck, or got intentionally ingested. Either way, it's being swum around inside the jelly fish peering out at the world with a panicked fish face and this is the sort of thing that I don't do well with - so your fish-sentience thing is poorly timed, maybe. But as you say, the only people who need to 'discover' this stuff are scientists who are so emotionally disabled they have to do tests for decades, and torture animals to finally understand that they have feelings. It frustrates and upsets me.
I think WHERE'S MY CRACK' should be your new catchphrase for when times get too difficult. You could possibly shout it while sitting on the porch in a faded negligee?
Don't worry about staying up. Just wait and see what happens. If you fall asleep at a table, or you go to bed early, so be it.
I am really excited for you about your trip. I think you'll manage to stay up.ReplyDelete
Miss Mary sounds so much nicer than one of my last *greetings*....being *the lady with the gray hair* LOL! Agreed that calling anyone *Miss* in my growing up years was always a title of pure reverence and respect, which is not a bad thing. Not getting any anxiety from your posts....just excitement and anticipation. Believe it or not, you WILL probably stay awake past 11pm with energy to spare! Keep packing ;-)ReplyDelete
No, your words don't bring me anxiety. I have plenty of my own! Doc found some heart issues and I'm having a stress test tomorrow. Ya know...the test where they amp up your heart to see if it'll attack you? Yeah, that's the one, I'm not just anxious...I'm downright scared. But there's nothing I can do to change it, unless you count the TWO Valium I just took so I can sleep. I'm sure your trip to Cuba will be so much fun for you!! I look forward to lots of pics!ReplyDelete
Not having grown up in southern US, I find the use of Miss for older ladies very sweet and respectful and I wish we'd do it here. Because I'd be a Miss for sure. Heh.ReplyDelete
I'm a night owl, so whenever I have to conform to other people's normal schedules (early to bed, early to rise) I do very poorly. The reverse of your problem. Good luck with that. Maybe you will become a night owl after a few late nights.
Breathe, Miss Mary! Good air in, bad air out ...
I felt anxious reading that you might have to stay up at all hours. I am anxious about that myself so maybe that's why I feel anxious reading it. I'm excited that August can wave now, that's different and darling. I'd be nervous and anxious and excited too. You're going to be fine once you get there, Miss Mary.ReplyDelete
Lots of people younger than me (I'm 41) call me "Miss Jennifer"....it's just a Southern thing. It doesn't have anything to do with your age except as a show of respect from someone younger than you! And you are fabulous, Miss Mary!!! ♡♡♡ReplyDelete
The last week or so my mood has been slipping and I am packed full of anxiety. That shit that sits on your chest and pushes on your stomach and makes breathing difficult. Last night I feel asleep at 7:00 and slept right through to 8:30 the next day. "HOLY SHIT!", said I. Because I was supposed to be up at 6:30 to start work at 7:00. I ran and yelled at my husband for not waking me up and reached for my work cell phone expecting messages wondering where I was. But. It wasn't 8:30 in the morning it was 8:30 at night and I had only been asleep for just over an hour. Why am I telling you this? I don't know. Maybe because Anxiety is a bitch and she owns me and this is what happens when I am being owned. Total panic all the time.ReplyDelete
I am so happy and excited for you for going to Cuba but I am glad it's not me going. It would be just too much. I so send you a million hugs and hope you have an amazing time! I will miss your posts. In lieu of your posts I will come back and read your archives while you are away.
I just read what I wrote. Man, I am a drag.
My daughter who travels a lot and everywhere (as a souvenir she brought me back the ceiling bit from an Uzbek airplane that had dropped on her head) told me once that whatever you forget to bring will be available where you go, either legally and much cheaper (and most likely looking somewhat different) or illegally and possibly cheaper if you can pay in dollars.ReplyDelete
As a token of your appreciation, she also recommends, to leave as much as possible behind, just hide it in sheets when you leave the room.
Meat or no meat? You want to discuss this now as you prepare for this epic journey???
Have a great trip!!!!
Wow, you are a serious packer. I don't think I've ever taken Neosporin anywhere! I figure if something happens and I need meds I can get them there. (Or some equivalent.)ReplyDelete
I'm with you about the late hours. That would be a challenge for me too. I've never understood people who can stay up late. It's just not in my DNA.
I think you're right about the eggs, too. I remember fishing with my dad when I was little and him explaining that fish didn't feel pain the way we do. And my question, which is still my question, was HOW DO YOU KNOW?!
Marriage is a funny thing. Would it surprise you to know I understand that moment with Mr. Moon completely and intimately? Ahh, sweet Mary, he loves you so.ReplyDelete
In awe of your going to Cuba. You rock! Seriously.ReplyDelete
Eh, why oh why did you have to tell me that about the fish. I only stopped eating meat finally about a year ago but still eating fish and ugh...Poor little farmed salmon. Sheesh....ReplyDelete
The crack thing cracked me up. So I guess you're forgiven for the fish. I agree about your chickens. Thank goodness for that.ReplyDelete