Taking Care

Officially in the chapter of life where I consider what's best for me. How obnoxious.

Take Friday. I was tired by 10, but couldn't sleep because of night cramps. Tried to gather some enthusiasm about ancient behavior. It was common in Chicago for me to come home long after Puhg went to sleep. I had my little rituals. Stopping by the Philly Cheesesteak storefront for a large order of seasoned fries or maybe Walgreens for Ben & Jerry's. I'd climb the four flights up, change into sweats, and have my little snack at 1 AM while watching Catfish. Sometimes I'd have work at 8 downtown the next day. Sometimes I'd get up at 6 to grade a few papers before running to the train.

So Friday I was already doomed to be awake. Luckily I had a pint of Netflix & Chilled in the freezer for such an emergency. Then I just had to be logical, didn't I? "Eh, that much sugar this late isn't going to feel so good in the morning, best wrap up in this blanket and drink more water." How dare I?

I was still up at 5 AM. Slightly out of my gourd from lack of sleep and dull pain and too many TikToks when I had the deepest truest craving for McDonald's breakfast. I haven't had McDonald's breakfast since 2015. When they introduced all day McMuffins and I got one for lunch after teaching English 101. I was violently ill later. A hashbrown? Maybe ate one in 2005?

But yesterday, dawn about to creep in, memories of childhood flitting around, I wanted nothing more than a pile of McDonalds. I filled my Postmates cart full. A McGriddle, oj, a macchiato, pancakes, McMuffin, biscuits. Did the butter still have a little print of corn on it, I wondered? Like it did when I was in pre-school and I'd rip the sausage out of the sandwich before mixing the pad with jelly. "I'll try to sleep first," I told myself. Next thing I knew it was 10:30 AM. Puhg already up, worked out, showered, coffeed, ready for his day. I urgently remembered the McDonalds. I googled when breakfast ended. I had half an hour to make it to the drive-thru.

Ah, but would that be wise? A greasy little feast while I still had greasy hair, had yet to move my body? No, no. Time to be responsible again. I sighed and put on my light pink exercise shorts. Cardio for half an hour, brushed teeth, shampooed, shaved, soaped, skin regime. I baked a tin of Trader Joe's biscuits, thinly sliced organic cheddar, fried two eggs in oil, added vegan bacon. Ate the next best thing on the patio.

You Have Hurt My Feelings (Never Too Old To Write An Angsty Poem)

You say you do not like work and would never prioritize it over a life, but you coupled yourself with a person obsessed with your work, and I do not believe you anymore. To be fair, you may not realize what has happened, but at this point, I am unwilling to accept that as an excuse because also--

You do not ask me about myself. When I tell, sometimes, you text excitedly. But rarely like my social media posts. And never follow up. I ask you about yourself and feel like I'm in the club, only to worry later, perhaps I'm not.

It is possible I thought we were friends beyond what we are. But what you said and did showed otherwise! There was a pandemic though. That's always to be remembered.

Also that person you're with talks over you all the time! They're very angry, and I see you are also now very angry. But you used to be one of the happiest people I knew. I have so many special memories of you laughing and running. Now you snarl over your riches. I understand you're worth more. We all are. But we live here and now.

By the way! It is convenient to be the arbiter of what political and social actions are "worth it" and which aren't! They all are, actually! Just to different degrees. I well-know some incite only the tiniest speck of progress. But just because you don't want to do any of it--don't act like those of us trying are fools.

It's petty but you told me you'd be there for me, and you weren't. You didn't apologize. And you also changed the subject so quickly, like I wouldn't notice. I noticed.

You have hurt my feelings.

You have hurt my feelings but you have also been there for me before. And what does one do with that? I do not trust you, but I hope you stick around. I wonder if you will. If you would if I didn't still care that--

You have hurt my feelings.

Special June 2022

 Opening this little blog with no plans about what to write. What was special this week? I've been making a list every day in my journal for the past, oh ten years of ten things I'm grateful for. I'm sure the exercise does what it's supposed to, but how many times can one write, "my hamster" before the words lose meaning? Hence this new, "what were special from today?" Like how on our way to Palm Desert on a joykill of a drive Puhg and I saw, just for three seconds, a skinny boy pushing a lawnmower, his dad watching, hands on hips, with a judgmental look. We immediately both burst into laughter. We couldn't even fully explain why.

On Monday I emailed Cowsk to ask if I could bounce some ideas off her. She always gets back to me quickly. No exception, Tuesday we had a morning spitball over mocha & seltzer. It hung over me for days. What's the best way to take this project? It's up to me but also not. Had a completely unsatisfactory dinner with someone and felt angry once I got home. But also free. There's no need to "keep up" all the time. Some folks are fine out there on their own.

Saw such a good play Wednesday with my mysterious friend. Sat right by the fountain outside the theatre chatting before showtime. We were both shocked when the usher announced, "five minutes, five minutes." I've been doing two back-bends and twenty push-ups a day since mid-April. I hate it but gosh if it isn't working. My shoulders are so much stronger and limber. I did a gymnastics move I've never done before. It didn't look as impressive as I know it was. What about recognizing some relationships get worse but can get better?

Last night was walking to the ballot box and sitting on the balcony in the afterglow of sunset and chips for dinner and two episodes of Fraiser and Beach Bunny on the Google home. The blessed ham curled right up onto my chest again, daring me to fall asleep. So smol and secure. Puhg thinks she likes to leech up the warmth. Good deal on my end.

There's a woman hunched across from me on this Starbucks patio with a humungo java chip frap loudly rolling calls. "Let's get that actor from Star Wars, the emperor" she just barked. Some guy joined her moments ago. She gave him a "one sec" finger, then exhaled "work never ends" with faux-exhaustion. There are people in this city who love not having a life. I'm not one of them.