Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Yes! I AM A Morning Person!
Feeling better, physically, I guess. I don't know. Yes, I do. I feel better.
Which is good because I have a million things to do and I woke up panicked beyond belief. I dreamed that I had a million tables to clean up. I swear. A parking lot bigger than Walmart's filled with tables and I had to wipe them all down and fold them up. It took me forty-five minutes to do two.
Then on to the Greek Isles vacation where I had a million sheets and towels to clean up. I swear. A million. I looked out at the water which was perfect and a sunset like I've never seen in real life and I have seen some sunsets and then back to the piles of sheets and towels and then to the washing machines which were antique and lodged in a tree. I had no coins for those, believe me.
Other things too which are too obvious to even consider, they all add up to panic and I got up, panicked, and collected more panic as I fed the cats, let the chickens into the run, got the paper.
I'm mentally ill. I haven't left the property in how long? Okay. Two days. Whatever. I'm a terrible wife. All he does is give and all I do is take. How many decades will he put up with that? My mother. I should call her. See how she is. I should go see her. I should take her to the grocery store. The wedding is in three days. House a mess. Dog shit abundant. I'm fat. I never write anything but this blog. I'll never, ever be a published author. And this blog- what a mess! Me, me, me, and all around me the world is falling to tatters, our criminal governor and his cohorts are destroying the state I love in the name of JOBS (where are the jobs?) and they want to make women have fourteen ultrasounds before they can get an abortion (okay, not fourteen but still, some) and I don't know. I can't even listen to the news, I glance over the paper, I shudder, I panic.
Okay. Cowboy up, Cupcake. The world is not coming to an end. Strip the bed, gather the laundry, drink some coffee, notice how fucking blue the sky is and try to focus on that. Yesterday I finished weeding my yard office. I planted the rest of the impatiens. I gave the hens fresh hay in their nests. I did all of that. That much is done.
Focus. Start here. Go there. Is Pearl still alive? Yes. She is a living, breathing sack of bones. Okay. That's okay. Make her her breakfast.
Hips still screaming. Take some Ibuprofen. They'll be fine. I'll be fine. It'll all be fine. I'm not mentally ill. Or if I am, I am not to the point where they need to come and take me to a facility.
Mornings are weird and hard. Mornings are the most beautiful and I always say I'm a morning person and that makes no more sense than saying I am a people-person. What crap. I am a finally-it's-time-for-bed person and last night when I laid down I thought about what it would have been like to be my age back in stone-age times when I might have been the oldest woman in the world and how maybe one of my grandchildren would have been snuggled under my furs with me and how maybe, the women who had mothers still living to help them with their children were able to keep their babies alive because of the help and thus- the human race was slowly headed towards longer, better life. Oh yes, I fantasized that grandmothers were the reason we are still here.
Dear god, I am a crone.
The yard-guy is here to finish the cutting and I wonder if he is looking at this day thinking "End Times, almost here," and getting great comfort in that. I wonder if the blackbird singing at the feeder has a thought beyond great pleasure in this day and the seeds he is eating.
I have talked to Mr. Moon. My sheets are in the dryer. I have also talked to the man with the weed whipper whose face is so beautiful that I couldn't look at it. He is Mexican and so cheerful and speaks English very well. He helped me move the hose. I wonder how far he is from home, if that is a sorrow. If it is, he hides it very well, he is cheerful on this beautiful morning, this cool morning where he is so far from home.
It is a beautiful morning.
Panic dissipates like the dew, slowly, but surely.
All will be fine. Unless it's the End Times and Jesus shows back up and points his bloody finger at me. Ooh boy. I hope not. Hell for me would be endless loads of sheets and towels, endless tables to wipe down and fold up while the rest of the world is watching the most beautiful sunset in the history of the world.
Okay. I am NOT worrying about that. Dog shit is far more real and immediate.
Good morning, y'all. Good morning.
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Well, I called a friend this morning at 9:30 am. To confirm our meeting at 11am and he is not a morning person. No, not at all. He was almost fierce. So, at least you've been nice to those around you. Panicked but nice. That's how I like to do things.ReplyDelete
Good luck to you on your hips and husband keepin' and the rest of the day!
(Your blog is supposed to be about you and your world. If it wasn't, it would just be someone else's fan site.)
Morning, mama! Sounds like things are ahoppin at Moon Manor today. Keep passing those open windows.ReplyDelete
I think that your sheet dream says something about how hard you work at tasks. You keep things running there. Take it easy on yourself. All will fall into place.ReplyDelete
Ms. Trouble- You are a comfort. Thank-you.ReplyDelete
DTG- I don't know whether to close the windows against the chill or open them to the beauty! It's such a hard call on a day like today.
But I'm fine, really, and I love you SO much.
Syd- I know. It will. All will be well. And it feels good to clean. It really does.
You are one of THE LEAST mentally ill persons I know (of course, coming from me, that may not mean much).ReplyDelete
When I feel overwhelmed, I always just try and focus on one thing at a time.
I am fat, too. But my fat ass sure does love you.
p.s. I sure am glad to hear that Pearl has lived to see another day. GO PEARL!
I forgot to add that the black bird is FAR WISER than the idiotic yard guy. I know that's what you were getting at, but I felt a damn need to POINT IT OUT VERY STRONGLY AND EMPHATICALLY!ReplyDelete
We're all going to need more Grandmothers when the end times come. :)ReplyDelete
Ms. Bastard-Beloved- See my e-mail. Love.ReplyDelete
Terena- And I'm pretty sure I won't be raptured so I'll be around.
You may write about you but you do it beautifully and speak for all of us who are the same.ReplyDelete
I hate waking in a panic...what crazy things the mind dreams up. But you Ms. Moon I certainly don't consider crazy.ReplyDelete
Hope you're enjoying the sunshine. The one thing I'm sure of today is I'm soaking up every bit I can.
Jeannie- What?! I'm not the only person who wakes up insane every day? Phew. What a relief. Kisses.ReplyDelete
Mel's Way- Oh, it is lovely-sunny. I am housecleaning but I have so many windows and doors that it's not like being shut in.
Have you ever read Swistle's post about Drops in the bucket? I think that is relevant here.ReplyDelete
Every little thing you accomplish matters, no matter how many more things there are left to do.
Of course you're panicing, you have a wedding there this weekend. you are doing magnificently, considering. Really I see such a difference in how you handle stress and people and your SELF from just a couple years ago. I feel like I actually watch you grow on the page and it helps me feel less crazy and overwhelmed.ReplyDelete
Keep writing sweet dear woman. Keep doing what you do.
Love and more love.
Oh, man. I recognize the way your brain works.ReplyDelete
Lora- Thank you so much for sending me there. What a great site! And yes, I got several drops put in that bucket today.ReplyDelete
Bethany- My panic attacks don't last as long, do they? Love and more love to YOU!
Switsle- Poor you! I'm glad you came by- visit any time.
Cowboy up, cupcake? Now that could get me out of bed.ReplyDelete