Life update
Two days ago, responding to Valerie's desire to have a clean house for Christmas, I spent eight hours (out of the three-per-day my fibromyalgia lets me function for without getting sick) cleaning everything off the carpet, including moving considerable furniture, and then vacuuming every exposed inch for the carpet cleaner, who as it turned out had the working equipment in his truck so that I had to hold the front door as shut as possible and chase cats (who are not outdoor cats and do not realize it) away from it, for another three hours, with the outside air freezing each of my legs by turns.
Yesterday, because Valerie's deranged sister pitched a hissy over Valerie getting a decent amount of sleep and getting a train at a reasonable hour so as to be picked up around three, I had to drag my sorry ass to the AmTrak site and change Valerie's reservation to the crack of dawn so Paula can have the Christmas schedule the Big Sister lobe of her brain demands, thereby using up the energy of the single part of my body that was still working.
Today was the day Valerie wanted to decorate, so I have just carried the Christmas tree (still set up with lights and all) from the garage, around five tight corners including the landing of the stairs, up seventeen steps (high ceilings do have that one drawback) and into the only room we can get the tree into.
I feel like I have been ate by a coyote and shit off a cliff.
Onto a cactus.
Which was then buried in an avalanche.
Which I was digging my way out of when I was struck by lightning.
Which was followed by a storm and a gullywasher that ran me down the Colorado River.
Only to hit my head on the Hoover Dam.
And then got run through the turbines at the power plant at the bottom.
Thereafter sucked up by pipes and drunk by several million people in Los Angeles.
Following a process I do not care to discuss, I was subsequently reformed out in the Pacific Ocean.
Where I was eaten by a shark.
The shark exploded.
Yesterday, because Valerie's deranged sister pitched a hissy over Valerie getting a decent amount of sleep and getting a train at a reasonable hour so as to be picked up around three, I had to drag my sorry ass to the AmTrak site and change Valerie's reservation to the crack of dawn so Paula can have the Christmas schedule the Big Sister lobe of her brain demands, thereby using up the energy of the single part of my body that was still working.
Today was the day Valerie wanted to decorate, so I have just carried the Christmas tree (still set up with lights and all) from the garage, around five tight corners including the landing of the stairs, up seventeen steps (high ceilings do have that one drawback) and into the only room we can get the tree into.
I feel like I have been ate by a coyote and shit off a cliff.
Onto a cactus.
Which was then buried in an avalanche.
Which I was digging my way out of when I was struck by lightning.
Which was followed by a storm and a gullywasher that ran me down the Colorado River.
Only to hit my head on the Hoover Dam.
And then got run through the turbines at the power plant at the bottom.
Thereafter sucked up by pipes and drunk by several million people in Los Angeles.
Following a process I do not care to discuss, I was subsequently reformed out in the Pacific Ocean.
Where I was eaten by a shark.
The shark exploded.