Saturday, August 10, 2019
Just back from a three-mile walk in cool wind, but I’m sweaty and did get overheated for a while and felt like slowing to snail’s crawl. Woke with neck a bit “out” after hoping and half-expecting never again to feel this way due to second treatment (neurowhatever, craniosacral whatever, etc., that two people we know have had such successful results from).
I might have been in bed before eight last night. I’d been tired since the moment of awakening yesterday morning. The shopping day in the city after breakfast and business in our town took it right out of me I guess. Shopping for clothing – disappointing as ever – I wanted some nicer tops to wear to the office in my home town, where my new job is, and browsed through one secondhand store and three clothing shops. I tried on three shirts in one shop and none looked good on me. The only things I bought were from the secondhand store, for $4 each: a pair of pyjamas, a nightie, a black vest, a black blazer, and a black zippered jacket for indoor wear. Last night I wore the nightie. On the label is written, in black felt pen, what I take to be someone’s name. In old folks’ homes and nursing homes, residents’ clothing is identified this way in case it gets misplaced or needs sorting after laundry. Items like my nightie are donated to secondhand stores after the owner dies. I thought about the lady who wore my nightie, whose nightie I was now wearing, whose loved ones miss her, who had a life now mostly forgotten from the inside. I thanked her silently for the pretty nightie because it felt so good to wear something new (to me) and cosy.
There’s a lot I think I have to do today and this weekend. When really I want to do nothing before I get the urge to do it. I’m tired.
When I get home from work I feed the cats in the barn and then deadhead the petunias and portulaca and water the pots. I feel stressed as I do it because I think I should be starting supper, and gradually the stress drains away as the beauty of the flowers becomes larger. I have a right to relax and spend time outside today!, I remind myself. I’ve been stuck indoors most of the day; I’ve been working – learning, more than actually working – and the fresh air is good for me. I remind myself of these things so as to feel less pressured. But I also start feeling hungry and when I come in, instead of starting supper I grab something to eat immediately. Usually it’s an apple if there are no bran muffins. I try for something healthy even though what I crave are the Miss Vickie’s potato chips in the pantry.
Being in my home town those three six-hour days (seven if you count the drive there and back) isn’t hard, but it isn’t easy either. Things at home don’t get done. Not that they always get done when I’m not working outside my home office, but then I have a choice. Now those 24 hours a week are not available for looking after myself and my home and enjoying both in the ways I’ve become accustomed to.
There hasn’t been time to sit and journal. Blogging has been reduced to sporadically. So on, so forth. This sounds like complaining. It isn’t. It’s coping with a different reality, and trying to describe it.
“What I’m looking for is commitment,” said the councillor, my former schoolteacher, when the village council interviewed me for the clerk/admin job.
“I won’t keep a job that I hate, but what I’m looking for is a stable part-time job till I die,” I said.
I now feel as if I must stick it out for a good long time even if I end up hating it.
I also wonder if, should I stick with it (as I expect to), the village will be able to afford to pay me indefinitely. Apparently sometimes it’s touch’n’go. I’ve seen a lot of overdue bills and at least one collections letter. Many property owners haven’t paid their taxes for many years and that doesn’t help.
Also, I’m not thick-skinned. When people criticize or complain, I will be stressed – even on my four-day weekend. I will have trouble getting to sleep. I know this about myself. It’s not that the stress is obviously from any one thing, but when I feel disapproved-of or wrong or inadequate, I react with anxiety unless I know without a doubt that the critic’s barbs are misplaced (and even then, I am bothered). I will buy some Vitamin B6 to help me withstand stress. I’m also going to start taking silica for my fingernails, which break and tear so that they are now all short and ragged. I’m tired of them looking like shit and if they look like shit, my general health can’t be all that good either. Though my hair is super-healthy so I can’t be in too bad a shape.
I’ve walked virtually every morning for the past four weeks. I know that my fitness has begun to improve but these fingernails tell me something is missing from my diet. My middle is flabby and I don’t like to see it. I hope the walking will tighten that up.
Proofreading to do today. Last night’s supper dishes. Wash our sheets. Order my friend’s product for her because she has no credit card. Put Himself’s roast in the oven and think of something to eat with it. These are my must-do’s.
My list of hope-to-do’s:
Make bran muffins for next week’s lunches
Make granola before we run out
Prune the shasta daisies and delphiniums
Sweep or vacuum the floor
That’s enough, though I have lots of other ideas.
Dreamed I met up with old boyfriend B.H. and we had an affectionate reunion, where I hugged him long and hard. He was doing very well financially and now has a grandchild. He hasn’t aged, looks the same as he did at 20. He met with Petra too but didn’t seem to recognize her; she looks very different than she did back then, very aged, and I hoped she wouldn’t be aware this was the reason he didn’t seem to know her.
Best go eat a bit more and maybe take laptop out to kitchen table so #1Son won’t feel he’s spending his whole day alone, with me here in the office getting my proofing done.
Sunday, August 11, 2019
Another day of feeling pressed and not allowing myself to hurry. I’ll live at my own damn pace, dammit!
So instead of getting up and going walking when the alarm came on, I dozed. Instead of going straight out after getting up, I read and had some coffee. Instead of going straight out after that, I ate two slices of toast with Pet’s rhubarb-raspberry jam. Then I walked, but it was already too warm by the time I was making my way home around 10. Walks are going to have to be early, as originally planned.
It’s hard to stick to my plan when I’m waking up tired and the house is cold.
This is the first time I’ve planted nasturtiums and they’re all leaves, hardly any blossoms.
No one has trouble growing a good stand of hollyhocks, but apparently me. Hollyhocks! That’s plain ridiculous. They should be bursting out all over where I planted them. Maybe they’re having to struggle too hard against the caraganas.
Then I spent an hour in the flowerbeds and watering, and am giving the perennial beds a deep watering for the next three hours.
Now: an hour of work.
Monday, August 12, 2019
Dammit, still tired. Today I’ll blame it on having to get up about 3 o’clock to take an anti-inflammatory for my neck so I could sleep.
I hope this lack of energy will soon pass.
So far this morning I didn’t go walking, but did get a load of laundry folded and put another one in to dry and our bedding to wash.
It’s cool and grey out there; I’ve put the furnace on as it’s only 68F in the house this morning. I should be able to take my walk later.
Have a proofing file to finish.
Yesterday I did vacuum the entire house; that’s been needing to be done for quite a while.
I’m tired, but not totally wasted.
Maybe some breakfast will help.