Mr. Moon and I received our free covid tests in the mail today. Well, they could have come yesterday. I only go to the post office a few times a week now, usually when I take the trash.
I had a martyr day today. I fully and freely admit that I have martyr syndrome. My mother did too, but she let us know about her suffering. She was overburdened and mistreated and made no bones about relating it to certain family members. (Me, especially.) I, on the other hand, keep my suffering silent for the most part but I know that by now, Mr. Moon can tell by the way I say just the word, "Okay" that I'm in the mode. I'm sure he wonders what in hell he did this time but it's not really him. It's just that he's the one who's here to bear the brunt. I get all martyry about things that really do not deserve my self pity or special recognition. Such as cleaning. It's mostly about cleaning. And doing things that I do not enjoy but which really must be done to keep a house functioning and within the realm of pleasant living.
So, yeah, mostly cleaning.
And of course no one (and guess who the only one would be?) ever notices the hard, hard work I do to create this functionability, this pleasant living experience. Although I will admit that sometimes out of the blue Mr. Moon does indeed thank me for random things like always washing his clothes and he almost always thanks me for cooking good food but of course I don't mind cooking much at all. In fact, I enjoy it for the most part.
But some days I am just over it. Everything from dumping the compost out for the chickens and cleaning that container, to making sure that there's toilet paper in the bathrooms, to unloading the dishwasher, to sweeping the floors just pisses me off.
Today was one of those days. I really didn't want to continue my pruning project. Was not in the mood. And there was a lot of laundry to do which was funny because I woke up from one of my eternal dreams about having hundreds of loads of sheets and towels to wash. So I did a lot of laundry. Including sheets and towels.
And I swept and I mopped the kitchen and a bathroom and I washed rugs and I dried and folded and put everything away and I took all the trash and I made the base for the first batch of ice cream that I'm going to start here in a few minutes. I'm making French vanilla because I had six egg yolks leftover from the cake I made on Monday. I hope it's good.
And really, none of that is much work, relatively, but I just felt bitchy about it.
Maybe I have a bitch syndrome, rather than a martyr syndrome.
Or...perhaps I have both!
But it's nice to have a clean kitchen floor and clean laundry and clean sheets and towels. I somehow survived the dreadful, painful toil.
I'm listening to a novel, The Five Wounds, by Kirstin Valdez Quade, and the concept of martyrdom is strong within it although the person I would call the "main martyr" in the story is a woman who is truly trying to do the best for her family that she possibly can under unbearable conditions. But all of the characters suffer from the syndrome a bit, including her thirty-three year old son, an alcoholic who still lives with her, doesn't work, and yet feels that life has dealt him a bad hand and that his good intentions and "honest" mistakes are judged way too harshly. All of the characters feel that they are not being given what they deserve from others and this may be the true sign of a martyr.
Perhaps I am not as much a martyr as I think I am because I honestly feel that I am treated so lovingly, so appreciatively by my family. In fact, far better than I deserve.
So there is that.
I am still, however, a bitch. At heart. Trust me.
All right- I have started playing Wordle and within four days I have become addicted. Levon helped me play yesterday by hitting "enter" for me as he had done with his grandfather, M, when he was visiting recently. Thank GOD there is only one a day. What a brilliant and simple concept!
Another thing that I did not mention yesterday was how after reading the book about octopuses, Levon and I kept seeing those creatures in all sorts of things- mainly trees with their spreading roots. It was magical. Also, we had read a book about listening when everything is quiet and I told him that when we are silent, we can hear so many things that we usually do not notice. For a moment we were both quiet and we heard wind chimes and birds. And then later on, in our walk, he said, "Let's be quiet," and we were, and we heard the wind blowing through the leaves of the octopus trees.
I hope I remember that always.
Happy Friday, y'all!