I am finding a lot of satisfaction from tidying. Of course I’m a temporary Kondo worshipper in the throes of decluttering and my endorphins are boosted each time I open a neat and tidy drawer, but I can honestly say that I feel more relaxed in my home recently. Knowing where things are and where to find them is such a comfort.

As you can see, it is calmer looking in the office. I bought a P Touch and now the drafts of stories I’m working on feel more substantial. In reorganizing files, I came across praise from editors for my writing that was so positive and affirming that I nearly feel like digging in and going for it again.

Another novel.

What am I thinking?

In this world turned batpoop loony, the might be my saving grace…

…or the death of me.

~~*~~

Of course, reality came in, bit my head, and sucked out any bright spots. A pushy medical person on the phone went out of their way to emphasis what a horrible, uncaring person I was for not bowing down to some made up guidelines to schedule another soul-sucking appointment in October. She made me feel bad about not being able to afford to run to their offices every three months for Husband’s “best health.” Sorry, not sorry.  We’re doing the best we can do with overpriced, high-deductible insurance and 6 months will have to do and no, there is no way we’re doing any more in person January – March appointments. I sincerely doubt anyone making these excessive, intrusive appointments experience what their patients do. I doubt they get charged for parking in a falling apart parking ramp, either. Had I the ability to do it over, we wouldn’t be going there at all, but for some reason, Husband likes the doctor – whose mind we were supposed to read today, but they called it “miscommunication.”

Even though we successfully talked them into a 6 month retest instead 3 months while in the office, and the actual medical degreed person came in and said to Husband, “Get a test in 6 months,” what we were were somehow supposed to divine was that he actually meant, “Make an appointment in three months that will go over your insurance limit for the year, get a blood test which is also over the insurance limit for the year but relatively cheap, and then drive here so I can tell you what those results are –even though it’s a blood test and you can look at the results online. And then do that all over again 3 months after that in the dead of winter, okay?” If he had said that, we would have told him, “No, we won’t be doing that at all. We have other doctors and they also want our money, so you are need to chill on wanting to take any more big chunks of it for a while, okay, you greedy little deaf piggy? We’ll get the test in January, and if we think it’s a bad number, we’ll give you a call, but until then, we can’t afford to see you again until next summer.”

Ffs

You know, it is getting very hard to live anymore, which is why I grabbed hold of the idea of tidying, hoping it would help some, and it has, but then I leave the house…I mean, what more do people want from me? I understand I cannot control anything, really, but does everything have to be awful? My son is having a real rough go right now. Our niece was hurting in the ER and we haven’t had an update in a while about that. The severity and the cruelty in the actions being taken by this government really doesn’t offer a reason to keep living in this country, especially when they act like they don’t want humans to be alive at all. Everything related to our healthcare and education policies are a horrid mess. Pollution, grocery and utility prices, all increasing. And then I get to deal with the apparently all-knowing, all-seeing, never met her before in my life Amanda telling me I’m an uncompassionate monster who doesn’t care about my husband having “best health.” Seriously, why bother anymore?

And yes, I know, why oblige them…but this is a hellscape.

And no, I’m not suicidal, but I don’t see anything getting any better, okay? We still have (had) the first amendment. I can still say things are bleak and I feel the bleakness, can’t I? Because it is bleak. And unbearable. And I am so, so freaking tired.

~~*~~

I wish I could type happier and tell you wonderful things about words and chapters, too, but I’m bungling around, up and down, irritated and enthralled. I walk to the labyrinth admiring the different shapes flowers have come up with to show off their blooms. Black-Eyed Susans, clover, fleabane, bee balm. The range of green – from nearly white-yellow to a deep dark hunter – delights my eyes. The roots I step over as I walk the rocklined maze are connected to the nearby sycamores, which are shedding their skins. I rescue a dying milkweed by untangling a three-leafed vine from the stalk. Fluffy purple flowers I don’t know the name of are the preferred sleeping spots of the bumblebees and the sweetest sight. I stand on rocks in the creek and I breathe.

Out there, I feel alive and I am fine. More than fine. Sometimes, I feel actual peace.

Otherwise, it’s been an all firewood splitting and stacking, finding places for things to live and putting them there while ignoring the horror called news and contemplating writing a story no one may ever read kind of quiet, hot month here.

I do thank you so much for reading this and seriously – I’m sorry for being down, but I could only mask over this anger, rage, and profound sadness for so long. I hope you’re doing better than I am and I wish you well. Thank you for stopping by! I really do appreciate you and your time. It means a lot to me.

Ciao