Well, Mr. O was about as sweet today as a five-month old child can be. He smiled and he patted the dogs and we went to the post office and fed the chickens and rocked and had bottles and had two shortish naps. And we shared a banana. He still likes bananas.He's just a joy, that boy and I surely did enjoy my time with him.
After his mama came and got him I got a burst of energy and decided to clean up a bit around here, remove some of the topsoil, you know? So I did that and it felt really good to have specific goals that were not huge (like cleaning the whole house) and would make the house seem more welcoming, more cozy. I am not a clean-freak but I do like tidy.
It's not like you could wear white gloves around here and think they'd stay white or white socks either, if you didn't have your shoes on, but at least it just feels better now.
And then I crashed.
I am so tired.
Hank called me to tell me about this and it's really just becoming so common for anti-gay legislators to be caught with their metaphorical pants down in the company of other (ahem) gay men that it's almost not worth writing about. But still.
So we talked about that and then I said, "I am just too tired to come up with anything else to discuss." I meant it, too, although I did feel a bit like Aurora Greenway in Terms of Endearment who would have no problem saying something like that. I'm still rereading that book and I'm still enjoying it.
And there's a little bit of dinner cooking on the stove and Mr. Moon is home and he's all gloom and doom due to business situations but I think he'll survive and I truly hope we do not end up living in a van down by the river. We do have a van and it has a generator in it but Lord, it is ugly and small, too. I'd rather live in a tent. Perhaps Jessie will support us when she gets her good nursing career going. I'm sure she'd do that for her old parents. Right, Jessie?
So that's me and the only reason I felt compelled to write all this down is because I believe I might have a disorder called hypergraphia. I heard about it on the radio. It's associated with other neurological disorders which I don't think I have but it's never too late to develop them. But I do seem to have an overwhelming desire to write, way beyond normal, I believe.
Sorry.
Hell. We all have disorders and most of them have medical names. It used to be you were just different. "Oh, he's different," people would say and that could cover anything from being gay to being agoraphobic or alcoholic or depressed or an ax murderer or having a tendency to paint his house pastel colors. Or odd. That was another word people used to use.
But no, now we all have disorders and ask your doctor if XELETOR or some other bizarrely-named drug might be right for YOU and if so, there goes your oddness, your differences, your problem and you, just like the good-looking person or the cartoon character, depending on the commercial, will be a happy and productive little human just like everyone else.
All right. Ask your doctor and be aware that the side effects may include stroke, dizziness, severe jaw and kidney and liver problems and oh yes, death. Rarely reported, though! Rarely reported.
Well. Whatever. Watching Owen and cleaning up the house has no side effects beyond fatigue and a good night's sleep will take care of that and for me, at least, those things work wonders for my soul. The Owen-watching, the house-tidying, the sleep.
They obviously don't do a damn thing for my hypergraphia though.
Oh well. I'm sure there's an app for that if not a pill.
Which they'll come up with soon, I have no doubt.
Night, y'all.
