...it's the end of 2016 already. I have the rhythm of this job down pretty solidly, so now the problem is fitting in life around it. I have an hour in the morning and perhaps two in the evening, which are absorbed if I hit the Y or Toastmasters - wise uses of my time, to be sure.
I use technology (the roomba, washing machines) to extend my capabilities but nothing can really compensate for being alone.
Friday, December 30, 2016
Monday, December 26, 2016
Boxing Day 2016
I had planned to spend the day after Christmas relaxing around the house, cleaning and puttering. Since Kiara was home, I asked her help moving the chest of drawers out of the laundry room, up into the Green Room. When I was in the basement, it was a symbol of my lowly state, using something Ginger had left behind, but after its year in exile, it was now just a nice thing that looked well in my bedroom and served a purpose ... even if it, like me, had a past.
Around 5 I got a text from Mushroom Eric saying he had books to donate. I had skipped my usual cycle due to the holiday, but this was very convenient. I zoomed right over to Pegasus and was soon in a discussion of our respective holidays. It turns out he's familiar with the area around Gail's farm and inn. Perhaps he's check it out next time he's there.
Emma was in the back and we started discussing books but somehow it got onto TV. Her take on some of my favorites seems to lean heavily on her work as an editor - the way that the characters work together technically explains some of my reactions to them emotionally. This was interesting.
Around 5 I got a text from Mushroom Eric saying he had books to donate. I had skipped my usual cycle due to the holiday, but this was very convenient. I zoomed right over to Pegasus and was soon in a discussion of our respective holidays. It turns out he's familiar with the area around Gail's farm and inn. Perhaps he's check it out next time he's there.
Emma was in the back and we started discussing books but somehow it got onto TV. Her take on some of my favorites seems to lean heavily on her work as an editor - the way that the characters work together technically explains some of my reactions to them emotionally. This was interesting.
Sunday, December 25, 2016
Post Christmas Day 2016
If I write every morning, I can write either about the events of the night (at this stage of my life, little enough) or of the day before. If I do the latter, it seems more natural to backdate the post so it appears I write that evening.
This Christmas morning Eric was smoking on the front step. I had given him a ride home from Kat's annual Christmas Eve party, but we talked so much through Everett that I clear forgot the turnoff and while initially I was annoyed, I realized that I needed to be more social and try a little conversation. It was really pretty interesting as we are now both on the windy side of age 50 and have hard-earned wisdom to share at a time where it might actually make a difference.
For example, we can be frank about the effect of being whipped as children - he much worse than I, and it shows.
I was in the grip of my annual seasonal allergy - there's something that releases into the atmosphere near the end of the year that my body spends three days fighting, and the best I can do is sleep it off - otherwise I might have pulled an all-nighter just talking. I was careful to text the housemates that Eric would be crashing upstairs and remind him the basement was theirs and off-limits to us - drawing boundaries is really important - and then I slept pretty solidly. In the morning Eric and I talked for another hour or three while I did casual cleaning. When it was time to drive the girls to Convington, Eric turned down the offer of a ride, saying he wanted to explore and adventure - maybe the busses were running, maybe he'd just walk - a thing he's really good at. Eric's in a better place than he had been for a while. Losing his wife (common-law wife, but wife nonetheless) was really hard, and I don't think the circumstances with her family helped at all, but he's carrying on and has found ways of dealing with the bipolar/depression he inherited and the PTSD he was given (it's a nature/lack-of-nuture thing) and he seems to have work and plans for the future which is good.
The Covington trip was uneventful and I returned without the benefit of navigation, discovering a few roads I had not seem before - likely not the most efficient trip but that's partly the point, am I right?
The rest of the day was me and the cats. The Hoover Roombaclone fascinates them as it delights me. It is getting a solid workout this first week at home, as there is more than five years of cat hair - I sweep weekly or better but there's no denying this new broom replacement sweeps clean.
The allergy is a good enough reason to turn in early. I am along but for the cats, and they're just as happy to have me stay in one place so they can demand attention.
This Christmas morning Eric was smoking on the front step. I had given him a ride home from Kat's annual Christmas Eve party, but we talked so much through Everett that I clear forgot the turnoff and while initially I was annoyed, I realized that I needed to be more social and try a little conversation. It was really pretty interesting as we are now both on the windy side of age 50 and have hard-earned wisdom to share at a time where it might actually make a difference.
For example, we can be frank about the effect of being whipped as children - he much worse than I, and it shows.
I was in the grip of my annual seasonal allergy - there's something that releases into the atmosphere near the end of the year that my body spends three days fighting, and the best I can do is sleep it off - otherwise I might have pulled an all-nighter just talking. I was careful to text the housemates that Eric would be crashing upstairs and remind him the basement was theirs and off-limits to us - drawing boundaries is really important - and then I slept pretty solidly. In the morning Eric and I talked for another hour or three while I did casual cleaning. When it was time to drive the girls to Convington, Eric turned down the offer of a ride, saying he wanted to explore and adventure - maybe the busses were running, maybe he'd just walk - a thing he's really good at. Eric's in a better place than he had been for a while. Losing his wife (common-law wife, but wife nonetheless) was really hard, and I don't think the circumstances with her family helped at all, but he's carrying on and has found ways of dealing with the bipolar/depression he inherited and the PTSD he was given (it's a nature/lack-of-nuture thing) and he seems to have work and plans for the future which is good.
The Covington trip was uneventful and I returned without the benefit of navigation, discovering a few roads I had not seem before - likely not the most efficient trip but that's partly the point, am I right?
The rest of the day was me and the cats. The Hoover Roombaclone fascinates them as it delights me. It is getting a solid workout this first week at home, as there is more than five years of cat hair - I sweep weekly or better but there's no denying this new broom replacement sweeps clean.
The allergy is a good enough reason to turn in early. I am along but for the cats, and they're just as happy to have me stay in one place so they can demand attention.
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