I got to see Lon and Lis today and it was wonderful but I was a terrible hostess and I know it's okay. They love me anyway and know me through my various insanities. We talked a lot about the election and the why's and the wherefore's and basically decided that however it happened, we're screwed.
Screwed, screwed, screwed.
I showed them my garden. Lon and Lis garden too and Lon always asks, "Can I look at your garden, Ms. Moon?" and I was proud to show it to him today. It looks pretty enough, and certainly green.
I kissed and hugged them goodbye and didn't even cry the way I usually do. I haven't really cried since the election. Everything that's gone on and I haven't cried. A few tears here and there, but no big giant breakdown of weeping and I suppose that's coming soon although anxiety seems to have an anti-weeping effect on me. I can't allow myself to get close enough to any of it to admit to any of it enough to cry.
Does that make sense?
I went through the rest of my day doing little things around here. Sheets and clothes on the line, mopping the kitchen and bathroom and two square feet of the "laundry room." Reading. I started "Terms of Endearment" which I bought at the Goodwill bookstore a few weeks ago. It really is the book which comes after "Moving On" so it follows naturally that I would take it up. We've all seen the movie and I think I've read the book before, but I'm not certain.
Another thing that Lon and Lis and I talked about was how forgetful we have become and how it's even worse since the election. We laughed, as we do, but after they left and I was sweeping the kitchen, I dumped my dustpan full of dirt and dust into the old metal laundry hamper I keep my rags and old towels and sheets in, instead of the garbage can which was right beside it.
Oh well. Nothing to do but go through all of the rags and shake them out and throw some away that I know I'll never use and I did find a little pair of baby shorts with dinosaurs on them that perhaps August can wear after I wash them.
I've made a completely bad-for-you casserole out of leftovers which is heating in the oven and somehow, I forgot to bring any leftover vegetables home and don't even have the energy to go out into the garden to pick for a salad. I just don't care. Cranberry sauce is probably full of antioxidants and all good things, right? I'll make a damn salad tomorrow.
The windows at the church next door must be open because I can hear the singing and the cymbals and a drumbeat. Lloyd is cooking and it's supposed to rain next week- maybe? maybe? please?- and maybe that will be some sort of release/relief. It's been so long. We're having a martini and Mr. Moon and I just had a good long hug and a little chat and told each other we love each other and we have clean sheets tonight and I have a book to read about the most narcissistic mother in the world, Aurora Greenway, and her daughter Emma and I know it doesn't end well for Emma but after this book, there are more books about Aurora and also Emma's children and hell, I can always reread "Lonesome Dove" which would take me through weeks of visiting with those good characters.
I wonder if I will look back on this time as the months of rereading Larry McMurtry and if I do, that's fine. I just look forward to a time when I do look back on this time and think, "That was hard. You made it through it. Good for you."
Whatever gets you through the night.
It's all right. It's all right.
Lord but the hours creep slowly until the time I can get in bed.
Maybe tomorrow I will rake leaves and finish mulching the garden.
We shall see.