So alas, dear reader(s), me thinks my Zooms and YouTube are now overrun by cops and imposters—even Peter Gabriel is now missing, and you know when he’s gone, we are all in trouble. Things started going south for me lately when I started innocently questioning what was up in Licking County—guess that place is off limits, but oh no, you know I’ve got what it takes to take it to the limit one more time. To the unseasoned eye I might appear a touch paranoid, but oh no, I’m as cool as the cucumbers they are giving out at the Brown Bag Deli down the street. Never felt saner in my life, just a curious feline in all matters concerned. So for now, I’ve left YouTube and it’s back to (safe?) Classical on Pandora. Here’s hoping the Mad Ad Men keep themselves in order this morning.
Looks like perhaps the sun will be out today, which is nice. But it’s certainly chilly outside, making me long for a vacation in a warmer clime somewhere, anywhere. Michael keeps threatening to move us to Florida, but I don’t want the stress of hurricane season (and all that accompanying trauma), not to mention I don’t want to leave my family and friends behind. Maybe I could call North Carolina home, but all the Boomers are invading as we speak, driving up real estate prices. Plus they get dicey weather too.
Oh where is the right place for me? My hospital den room at 235 E. Columbus Street, for the rest of my life? This house is crumbling apart, why can’t Michael see that, or why, in the very least, won’t he do some cosmetic repairs to the chimney and paint trim so I don’t indeed go nuts again? I keep having to flee away to temporary sanatoriums like Chip’s place, or ritzy hotels in Dublin, grabbing food from Cameron Mitchell along the way. It’s no wonder one might want to flirt with boozy dreams along this Road Less Traveled. I’m starting to get upset again, and I must keep my cool, if for nothing less than mom cannot handle anymore me bitching about my woe is me tale.
I guess I’ll drown my sorrows in my cooking. I’m making buttermilk pancakes and sausage for brunch; probably chicken sausage and apples for dinner or maybe a mushroom and potato paprikash. Not sure yet. I’ll keep trying to evade the noisy, intrusive news as best I can. Maybe I’ll call Shawn as I’m now kinda afraid of Zoom cause there were some really distressing folks in that Dual Diagnosis Zoom I attended last night. I want to stay connected to AA, but if I don’t feel safe there, I can no longer go to meetings. The people hosting the Zooms appear to have no control over triggering talk and it’s harming people.
Yes, there are many, many sick people roaming around our country, and our current hospital system isn’t equipped to handle all of them. America, supposedly the greatest country in the world? Hah. This place is infected, cue up The The, and try to find some sane person in Washington who has the key to unlock the trunk holding the secret to how we get out of this mess. (Hint: the trunk is a time capsule.)
Bah, my mood is slightly darkish again, can’t seem to find the right music to lift my spirits this morning. Need some Chopin or maybe a Russian composer who I cannot spell his name correctly (but you know who he is). I’m going to try my damndest not to bark at Michael this morning, I must remember he is trying. Today I’m just going to try to be pleasant. Heaven help me. Heaven. The home of the heart.
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