No fever today. But,
man, do I have a headache. I feel like
someone banged me on the top of the head.
Maybe it was me. I have one of
those cedar post log beds and it is a possibility. I am sure if you ask the dogs I was not a
good bedfellow last night: I probably
thrashed a lot. But it was their
fault. I was having a nightmare that I
lived in apartment and some man walked into my kitchen and somehow, I knew he
was not going to hurt ME, but he was after my dogs. I ran out the door and found my limbs
uncooperative with the speed I was attempting; I stumbled helplessly by a guy I
know from work and he said nothing. I floundered
my way to the Rental Office to have them call 9-1-1 and discovered I could not
speak, nor could I shout. But in my
chest, as I slept, I could feel myself screaming. I threw myself across the rental agent’s
desk. Then, I woke up. My dogs smiled at me as if nothing
happened. That’s the thanks I get for
saving their lives in my dreams! Was it
watching cop shows before bedtime that caused this … or the pretzel squares
smoothed over with port wine cheese that I must blame?
Or COVID? Maybe, like
everything else that has gone wrong, we can blame COVID. I am so sick of that word. Sick of the 3-point instructions (if you don’t
know what they are after 7 months of hammering from every direction, SHAME ON
YOU!). So what happened to all my good
intentions on how to keep my life “together” as a single person moving through
this community-world-wide-health-disaster?
I sleep a lot, but I am not well-rested. I talk to the same handful of people every
week, because I love them. Yet there are
people that I thought might care enough to pick up the phone and check on me, that
have by-and-large not done so.
Consequently, my Christmas list is shrinking in my head. I
realized that it is probably pointless to consider online dating, because we
are as a State getting ready to “close down” everything again. Will there ever be a real-life date
again? Not that I had a shot at that in
the last decade. I felt like before
COVID I had very few possibilities of finding a good match, True Love (think “Princess
Bride” movie dialogues), or anything related to relational happiness. Now, my overall hope is swirling the porcelain
bowl.
Getting a part time job is high on my list at present. However, getting the virus is NOT. Consequently, all the Help Wanted signs on
the big box stores are irrelevant to me.
I am trying to get online, work-from-home jobs. Or maybe I could just “marry into money,” but
then again see the previous paragraph’s conclusion.
Valor, Prince of Morning Glory Acres, is in desperate need
of a wife. I have hunted for one online
for him and come to the realization that the Law of Supply and Demand does
indeed function and thrive in such times as these. People are working from home. Kids are doing school remotely. I can’t imagine how four and five-person
households must be tripping over each other right now, both physically and emotionally.
What’s the American solution? – Get a
dog. Which, if you think about it, is
incredibly short-sighted (or desperate).
What happens, the Amish puppy-broker woman asked me, when these kids go
back to school and these adults go back to work? What happens to the dogs indeed? I can tell you at my house when I am not home
they haul out the cigars and the poker game begins … just like on that classic
painting. Then, when I arrive home from
work or wherever, I am greeted like the whole world revolves around me…. And that idea is an utter ruse, and very
tricky on the part of the dogs. Because,
the world does not revolve around Me. It
revolves around, well, THEM … treats and climbing all over me on the couch when
I am trying to read a book. They are
even at the point when I end a phone conversation with my typical, “Okay, bye”
the dogs shoot off the couch to the door leading to their pen outside… even if
it is 38 degrees and drizzling rain. They
are die-hard narcissists.
I may have mentioned my strange spiritual shift during the
lock-down as well. I was not attending
Church for those first three or four months of COVID. My weekend worship was televised – and came
with some fabulous homilies (and only a couple not-so-fabulous ones). My Tuesday night Bible study dissipated. My Wednesday night chapel appointment
evaporated. And with all of this paradigm
shift I found myself…. Relieved. I welcomed
the break. It is helping me distill what
is really important about spirituality:
the relationship between He and I.
But that has taken a shift as well.
I’m not one of the people relentlessly pounding on the doors of heaven
for Him to save us from illness, etc. I
think of the man Job, portrayed in the Hebrew Scriptures (OT) as suffering tremendously
yet toughing it out. When he finally
gets cranky with God, the answer comes back to him: “Where were YOU when I laid the foundations
of the Universe?” In other words, God
knows what He is about and what He is tolerating from creation gone-awry and He
does not owe us any answer. He provides
us only (and the word “only” should not herein feel so diminutive, but rather,
pointed) the assurance that He is with us always. I have a stickie note on my desk at work that
says: “The same God that got us through
the 10 plagues in Egypt and the waters of the Red Sea is still with us.” I didn’t steal it from a magazine. I just finally realized that it was true and
it calmed me down. It gave me an
historical-theological perspective.
Yesterday I found out that I actually weigh a few pounds
more than my father. That was a piece of
messed-up news. I’ve been on the
Wellness Challenge with the group from work for three months and have not lost
one pound for more than three days. Have
fun with that math. Actually, my father lost weight because his
health is struggling. My only goal for
the Wellness Challenge was actually to prevent weight gain. So, I keep a food diary – as a Type-A person
that is no big deal. And then at the end
of the week I look at the dismal pattern of eating-as-a-single-person and think
to myself, “Maybe some day you will have the zest to attempt weight loss, but
relevant to the place your head is right now with the world events, this is no
time for Refrigerator Heroes.” My
Wellness Coach, bless her sweet heart, has agreed that “not gaining” is a good.
In an incremental way. LOL.
Months ago, when the weather was great, I attempted walking
the track next door on a regular basis. Experts say that activity accompanies or
precedes weight loss and control. I
logged my activities onto my Food Diary so I could be honest. I even took my poor, sad, neglected bicycle
out there a few times. The tires don’t
hold air like they should but I rode anyways.
And I was kind of crest fallen when after a few weeks of three days of
successful effort, I did not see the needle move on the scale. Damn bagels.
At any rate, it is cold now and not the weather that I will walk
outside. Luckily the dogs are amenable
to going out to their yard by themselves.
I just can’t get my system to adjust to cold weather these past few
years. My body remembers the glory of
Arizona wistfully.
I had a dream once about retiring to a warmer climate. But I am not sure I will actually LIVE long
enough to retire. And the jerks that run
the system have moved that needle as well.
I figure I will be 92 when I can retire and not need to move into my
nephew’s garage. Really, I should lose
weight just from all this mental mountain-climbing I’ve had to do in the past
seven months.
Dear reader, I hope you and yours are well. I hope that you can be entertained by my stated
plight. And if you feel sorry for me
enough, send me cookies. By all
accounts, it seems I’m losing the war anyways.
I may as well go out with a smile on my face.
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