“There’s something about this Sunday
It’s a most peculiar gray
Strolling down the avenue
That’s known as A1A.”
I’m in this “barely leaving the house era.” Which, you would think, would mean I’m working and cleaning and being wildly productive.
Well, I’m working and cleaning but you wouldn’t know it. I’m also drinking a lot of wine and cleaning the same five things over and over again. Cat bowls, certain pieces of laundry, etc.
Not quite the life as Jose depicted it. But whatcha gonna do.
“Now I must confess
I could use some rest
I can’t run at this pace very long
Yes, it’s quite insane
I think it hurts my brain
But it cleans me out.
And then I can go on.”
I was writing my newsletter today — and editing another one — and I wrote in this Jimmy Buffett song to both.
I realized how long I’ve been going without sleep, for whatever reasons. And while I eliminated a few of those reasons, the reasons for which I eliminated them have gotten more pervasive.
I’m tired, yo.
I was so motherfucking tired yesterday that I clocked out at 1, scheduled some unscheduled PTO for the afternoon, then crawled over to the couch with a full bottle of Zin and proceeded to have the best nap of my life.
Which brought my total hours slept for Thursday up to … five.
I’m not mad. In the angry sense anyway. Patience and bits of my mind, oh yeah.
But hey, I had a ghost either pass through me or hug me last night. Which was weirdly exciting TBH.
Honestly I was just asking it for privacy and I think it gave me a very long hug.
“And the hurricane with my name, when it came
I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away
Barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine
Well, me and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time”
I figured it was my grandfather. I started singing “Stuck Like Glue,” which he used to sing to me when I’d pop up to Pittsburgh to see him and Mom.
And for a tiny, tiny moment, all felt right in the world. Both when I’d surprise them with visits, and when I got my ghost hug.
And I was perfectly sober. I do my 1-2 glasses of wine at dinner now, so I can be awake at night.
I have this strange feeling — it’s comforting strange, not fucked-up strange — that everything is going to be OK.
Eventually, not for the foreseeable future. And for me, not really anyone else.
That’s comforting and disconcerting at the same time.
Not that I can explain it or even want to. But … I know the road ahead is a haute mess, but I don’t have to be one myself.
No real point to this post. I’m bored so I am going to end it now.
Fuck me up, Florida!!!