I didn’t have to wait for spring to come this year. It came when it was supposed to. Maybe the winter was mild, maybe the anticipation of our trip to Tobago made the rest of the cold months go by faster.
The tulip and daffodil greens came up, and I saw buds forming. The forsythia bloomed. One lone daffodil bloomed earlier than all the rest. It was visible through the back windows of the house, and I checked on it each day, eventually watching it wilt, and waited for the others to bloom.
They never did.
Something different happened this past weekend. Lockdown could be summarized as weeks of mental torpor and fatigue, wishing I was inspired to be creative while I was stuck at home. With few exceptions, I crept through the occasional project with little enthusiasm.
Friday came. Finally, I had the energy and inspiration to start a sewing project – one I’d been planning for a long time but hadn’t had the bandwidth to get started on. It came out just as I’d hoped.
The next day, I tackled a wall mural that I’d been planning for months. It was a group project with the kids. We had our moments – like when I hit my head on the door frame while doing some of the detail work on the mural, but somehow, every kid (except my oldest, who didn’t care) got to help paint a section of the mural or consult on color choice.
When you live in a house with others, sometimes when another person experiences a mental shift, it’s like the wind has changed direction and everyone can feel it.
Last night the Chaplain and I were catching up on John Oliver and Trevor Noah, and saw a clip of an Amazon worker, pleading for non-essential items to stop being sold. He is risking his life, he said, to package and ship dildos.
How are employees having to work at a time like this in order to package the unnecessary stress purchases of others? I am anxious and afraid, and I’m a nurse. I cannot imagine being told I was an essential worker, showing up for work, and then having to do something like taking care of patients who had had elective surgery to get horn implants. Or a tail.
I used to have a weighted blanket that I used to chill at the end of the day.
Except I wasn’t chilling, I was roasting a lot of nights. At some point, I realized I was experiencing peri-menopause, and it wasn’t the blanket that was causing the night sweats.
I spoke to my endocrinologist about it. He was the doctor I saw the most often, and he ordered unnecessary hormone tests that confirmed that I was not menopausal. Which wasn’t even my question. But, men. Alas, they are helpless in the face of a woman in distress and sometimes they do foolish things the woman must then pay for. In this case, literally $300.
There are a few traditions we have at Christmastime that everyone in our family really loves. Our family nativity photo shoot was such a hit the first year that we did it twice.
The second year, the kids were less enthusiastic, but willing.
This year, I put it off for weeks.
I was afraid One would refuse. Or something else would go wrong. The idea of gathering and coordinating costumes for everyone is a little intimidating. Getting costumes together and helping each person choose who will depict who is a delicate dance between filling all the spots and making sure everyone is satisfied.
We didn’t decorate our tree, and I wrapped the gifts in pillowcases. After the Christmas baking and traveling were done, there weren’t really any other excuses, but I still put it off.
