Backsliding

I know I said I was done with the wallowing. I gave my head a shake! I got some perspective! I was ready to move forward! 

I am not ready to move forward. Well, I am in theory, but I am just lacking the bodily resources to make it happen. Last night I slept like I had been drugged or cursed by a poisoned wagon wheel. Wait, that's not right. Spinning wheel. Eve said she feels the same, so maybe it's just the weather. Pam and I went for a great walk last Thursday and declared that we would do the same at least once a week. The following Wednesday I looked at the weather and said "oh great, it's supposed to rain for the next six...seven...NINE DAYS?"

Saturday and Sunday were sunny and cold and then warmer. I hate when people on social media tell me to go outside because it's beautiful, but I did, in fact, force myself to go outside and do the stupid little walk for my stupid mental health. Saturday I got Eve to go with me, and Sunday Matt and I walked over to my mom and dad's because they needed help figuring out the bill for the mobility devices we rented and bought when my dad fell back in September. I asked Matt why they didn't just pay it rather than making him go through every line with them (it wasn't that high, they could easily afford it) and he said "your mom just wants to make sure she isn't getting ripped off" and Eve said "just say 'oh look, in this Young Person Font that only I can see it says 'you're not getting ripped off''". After they dealt with that Matt put Angus's game on his phone so we could listen to it (because we should be in fucking Elmira New York watching fucking baseball) and they pulled off a surprise win (the team has been struggling pretty hard) and I sent this picture to Angus, which he liked.

I keep saying I want to take a week to just read (other than my stupid little walk) so maybe I'll just do that. I finally got my reading mojo back after a week or so of focus issues and inability to decide on what to read next. The opening lines of the last two books I read were "So Shanna got a new job at the movie theatre, we thought we'd play a fun prank on her, and now most of us are dead and I'm really starting to feel kind of guilty about it all" and "How much is it to fix a broken goose?", so things are looking up. Plus I just finished this book (in actual paper form) and just LOOK at this cover:

Also, I had my first tweet to do any real numbers. Was it an uplifting inspirational verse? Was it a penetrating social justice analysis? It was not. Somebody posted this:

And I responded with this:

234 likes and counting. So proud. (It's actually killing me that I didn't format it better. Penis flytrap. It should have been Penis flytrap.)

Also, I got my Covid vaccine. 

Yes, I dressed fancy (underwire bra, even!) I didn't post a vaccine selfie on social media because I was conflicted and I sort of agreed with Tudor (HI TUDOR) that it was all kinds of messed up that the government was saying 'EVERYBODY GET YOUR SHOT' while not vaccinating essential workers. They lowered the age for Astra Zeneca at pharmacies to 40 and up, then lowered the age for the provincial portal, but they're STILL NOT FUCKING VACCINATING ESSENTIAL WORKERS. I also don't blame anyone who posted a vaccine selfie, because the messaging is so jacked that how is anyone supposed to know what to do? Get your shot! But some of you can't! But if you can you should! The more people vaccinated the better! But this one might kill you! But get it anyway! All the while la la la la, what's that about essential workers? Can't hear you! 

I was very sick about twelve hours post-vax. Matt slept downstairs so I could thrash around. Apparently I fever-texted quite a few people in the middle of the night. Here's what I sent Eve:

I needed a straw because I couldn't lift up my glass of water to drink. Everyone told me to drink lots of water but then I kept having to get up to pee and I had a 103 degree fever and convulsive chills and taking the blankets off to get up to pee was AGONIZING. I knew I would probably get mad side effects because immune responses tend to be where I shine - if there is a side effect to be had, I will have it. I consoled myself with the fact that I was clearly mounting the robustest of defenses, and this cemented my conviction that actual Covid would probably kill me. I felt weird for days. 

Okay. I have made dentist appointments for the family and a doctor's appointment for myself (TWO PHONE CALLS) and written a blog post. I'm going back to my sulking chair. I mean my reading chair. 

Oh, Eve just came down and laid on the kitchen floor to complain about Calculus. Nothing but positive attitudes and stiff upper lips over here.