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that time of year again
May 24, 2016
Busy, busy, busy.
I have been busy cleaning and organizing my bedroom, going through my wardrobe, sorting out drawers, etc. I bought a 5-drawer storage cart (I left the wheels off, though) that just fits next to my dresser, so I can organize all the crap that has been stacking up on top of the dressers. It looks better already--I mean, if you knew what a sty it was before, you would be impressed. But if you had never seen it, you would probably think it was a dump at this point. I have to drag both bedrooms back to a decent condition so that I can put the kid in my room, and share with Spouse. After he did his closet, I was kind of hoping he would keep going, but he stalled out again. Actually, I have to get the whole house done, somehow. When it comes to tackling the big cleanup jobs, he's pretty useless, so it will be up to me. As usual, he invites people, and I do all the damned work to get ready for company.
I still haven't really gotten started on the garden; maybe this coming weekend, if it is dry enough. Or maybe I'll just keep my life simple and skip it this year. The Spouse mentioned getting the pool up and running over the holiday weekend, so I probably won;t get to it anyway.
In fact, Spouse seems to be doing everything he can to make sure I don't get any restful time off again this year, so I will have to marshal my energy and ration it accordingly.
I'm reading back and it looks like I'm in a foul mood and pissed at Spouse, doesn't it? Well, kinda. Mostly I just don't feel well. The IBS is swinging back & forth like a clock pendulum, so I (quite literally, as it happens) feel like shit. I definitely would have taken today off, if I could have. Unfortunately, that was not an option. (Somebody please tell my gut that it isn't allowed to act up until late July, please!)
Plus, he's been feeling a bit punk lately, himself. Tired, blah, weak, and depressed, He had his physical on Friday, and his blood pressure actually registered as being LOW, which could be a big factor in all that. The doctor tweaked his BP meds, so hopefully that will help get him feeling better. His lab results aren't back yet, so who knows if there's anything else wrong. (I worry. I do.)
Work has me in a more or less constant state of despair, so that isn't helping matters--I need to be "up" for him, and that just adds to the already crippling levels of stress. I can't be permitted to lose my shit, after all--that is his exclusive province, as we well know.
Sometimes it seems like a stack of dominoes--I make the decision to take better care of myself, then all hell breaks loose at work, then he starts feeling neglected, so the stress goes thru the roof and I end up in worse shape than I started out.
And then he thinks he's going to make it all better by forcing a spa treatment on me. He's been pressuring me to book an appointment at the hotel's spa, and I really don't think I want to. It is supposedly one of the top ten spas in the world--which, perversely, really puts me off. Too expensive, and too outlandish. Full of new-agey, woo-ish BS and bizarre rituals. I'm much happier at a good, mid-level spa. Where I can relax, get a good Swedish or deep-tissue massage from an ex-marine (ah, Karl...you were the best...) and a facial or a mani-pedi, without taking out a bank loan, or dealing with "body rituals" or "ceremonial chambers". Not to mention "brine inhalation-light therapy", "experiential showers" or "hammam wet massage".
Weirdos.
I did book a body-wrap and a massage, though. Just to shut him up.
Reading: "How it Happened"(1914), by Kate Langley Bosher
Listening: The Bobby Broom Trio. (I'm having one of those times where instrumental jazz is the only music that doesn't irritate me.)
Inked Up: Making a concerted effort to stick to one pen this week--The Conklin Duragraph. Not much of a strain, really. I love pretty much everything about this pen.
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