Dislike Time

I tend to put off things that I dislike.  As a matter of fact the more I dislike things the more I’m likely to put those things off.  And I’m talking long-term putting things off.  You know the indefinite kind of putting things off.

Now some of the things I’d love to put off forever, such as paying taxes, end up having to be done by a certain deadline.  So I deal with those things by getting them done just before the deadline.

Other things I put off because, well I just dislike them.  Stuff like switching out the winter and summer linen closet stuff.  Or redoing the pantry items.  Those are things that can wait.

Those things that aren’t exactly under deadlines can be pushed back further, ignored until you can’t ignore them any longer.  Or until they demand your attention.  Or someone yells at you for not doing whatever it is you should have completed.

In my case that means I postpone, ignore, put off and hide from medical things.  The kind of medical things that will make me feel worse than the rubbish I already feel.  Like blood draws from collapsed veins.  Like doctor visits that won’t have good news to them.  I know not very mature, but I must confess lupus brings out the worst in me.  Honest!  Okay I don’t put these things off to the point of disaster or jeopardizing my health.  I postpone them by a few days. It’s a control thing for me!

But when lupus is somewhat under control I can be very mature!  Ask me, I will tell you! 😉

Hard Questions: What Would You Do?

There are times I wish I could stick my head in the sand and let things just pass by as if I never saw them.  But I can’t because doing so wouldn’t solve anything and would, in some ways, say I agree with those actions.

injustice is everyone’s business.  That black eye that you know didn’t happen to someone simply by walking near a door.  But we are afraid to get involved in someone else’s life.  Is it out of respect for someone’s privacy?  Maybe.  Or maybe it’s because we are afraid of the mess that might happen getting involved.

But I don’t understand how you can sit by and not do something when you know someone’s being abused or taken advantage of.  Especially if that person is vulnerable.  Say, for example, an elderly person who has lost her sight.  And has moved in with her son and his live-in girlfriend.  And lets just say this elderly lady is unable to do things a particular way, the way her son wants.  Is it our place to get involved when her son or his live-in girlfriend throw a glass of water on this lady?  Is it okay to just ignore it and think this is a one time deal?

If you happen to be me you can’t let this go.  You demand someone, the proper authorities do a welfare check in this lady.  You make a pest of yourself until the situation is resolved and the lady is in a safe place.

And if you are me, you try so hard to take that anger over these injustices and abuses and you use it as an energy to speak out, to help these people who need help.  And you use some of that energy and demand people ask the tough questions of themselves.  So I’m asking you, dear readers, what do you do in these situations?  Put your head in the sand?  Get involved?  Do you continue to get involved? Do you shrug you shoulders and hope for the best?  Do you pull yourself up from the screaming and kicking to stop it from happening?

Some days…

Some days I dont know what gets into me.  I almost forget I have lupus and all the “fun” that comes with it.  I go crazy, almost giddy with the idea of boundless energy!  Oh how I plan and oh how I scheme!  Ii make a list, a large list, and I get at it!

Laundry?  Tossed in the machine and other loads waiting!  Ready to tackle the kitchen floor?  You bet, but first lets bake some cinnamon buns.  Oh and don’t forget we need to do a go do cleaning of the carpet after the last time the dog found dirt; think steam clean!

Fast forward to the first load of washing being placed in the dryer and I’m struggling a bit.  Just a bit tired.  Perhaps we will leave the carpet until tomorrow.  Oh and cinnamon buns?  Let’s change that to muffins.  Easier and more versatile.

Fast forward another load of laundry and I’m questioning my sanity.  Also who stole my energy and what are the police going to do about that?  Oh heavens the kitchen floor, we must do that and then, don’t think about then.

Fast forward towards mid afternoon and I’m just dragging myself around.  I should get a gold medal for just getting the laundry folded.  Putting some of it away will have to be set aside for tomorrow.  But the reality is that it will be several tomorrows before the last of the laundry gets put away.  Not with energy or enthusiasm, but rather because I am trying to prove something to myself and lupus.  The carpet will wait until later or Beloved coming to the rescue.

I know the wise thing to do is to not create such a big list.  But when it’s a long time between energy runs, it’s hard to remember to take it slow.  Besides I’m always a bit scared that if I don’t pack it full the energy might just disappear.  As if I’ve offended it some how.  So if you are looking for me, I’m either working on a massive list or resting underneath it!😉  Just depends on if it’s some day or the day!

Pack

The dog has a small problem.  He thinks he is a person.  Okay we may be partially to blame for this, but only partially.  Afterall he adopted Beloved and decided he was living with Beloved.  Sure Beloed had decided to bring in this sad stray with the odd mouth, but the stray had already made up his own mind he was living with Beloved.

we’ve grown from there.  Th dog decided where his bed would be, which room needed to have his toys and so on.  He decides now if he is going on a car ride with us or if he wants to stay home.  He sets bedtime because if we don’t go to bed when he wants to, he simply keeps coming back to where we are and dragging us towards the bedroom.

I guess you may say he is the leader of our pack.  Yes I know, I just said the dog runs the household.  😳  We didn’t plan for it to happen.  It just sort of ended up going that way.  And I don’t honestly seeing a lot of that changing.  Beloved is more of a pushover than I am, especially when it’s about the dog.  He feels for the dog, poor thing put out in the street and left to fend for himself.  Probably put out because he has a serious underbite, so he doesn’t look like you’d expect him to.

Some of you are thinking that the dog doesn’t have a problem, rather he has it made.  And in some ways I suspect that’s true.  But when he gets with other dogs, he isn’t exactly sure how to interact with the dog.  He struggles, in some ways, to be a dog because he believes that’s he is human.  Or is it a case of him thinking Beloved and I are lesser dogs?  Either way he knows he has two other beings in his pack.  Two other beings who know that despite what they say, he is ultimately in charge, even if he doesn’t wear pants, because who needs pan a when you have an wagging tail? 😉

Hearing Things

Beloved raced out of the house, down the stairs and across  the street in bare feet as though his life depended upon it.  Were the hounds of hell at his heels?  Nope.  Why on earth would he run across hot asphalt with no shoes if his life wasn’t in danger?

It was a song, a siren’s song of sorts.  The one many people find impossible to ignore during summer.  Th song of the ice cream man coming up the street with his wares.  That, and that alone, had propelled an almost asleep Beloved out of the chair and racing across the hot pavement.  I should mention here Beloved is not a barefoot person.  Oh he goes barefoot in the house or on the beach if the sand isn’t too hot or too hard.  But bare feet, Beloved’s bare feet in particular, do not touch asphalt or cement, or even grass.

Watching him shift slightly from foot to foot as he placed his order and contemplated the best way to get home without hurting or burning his now sore feet made me think of the songs said to have lured sailors to a water grave.  Granted Beloved wasn’t lured to a grave, just a rather hot ground with unprotected feet, but still the principle is the same.  Under any other circumstance there is no way he’d be bare foot on the pavement.  Under any other set of circumstance shoes would adorn his feet before the foray out to the hard, painful world beyond our door.

I suppose we each have our own weaknesses.  Different “songs” lure us, get us to do what wen wold otherwise never do.  Some off so learn better to resist the urge that beautiful noise creates deep within us.  But none off  us is every truly deaf to the call and in the right moment we would be hurtling off to whatever end awaits us because the music is just too beautiful to ignore.

 

Solitary Life

The man had finished discussing the legend of the places, the one about the nun being walked into a tiny cell. She wasn’t fully walled in mind you, they had left a high window through which to pass food, water and messages.  But she had no way out of this tower.

I couldn’t imagine it, not at any age, but she was barely in her teens when she was “chosen” for being so holy and pious.  A message had come that she should remain utterly pure nd the only way for that to happen was to basically put her in solitary confinement.  Never let her out.  So that’s what they did, on command from high up in the church.  The Lord, after all, had sent the very message.

I wondered how long someone could live like that. Minimal food and water passed to you.  No human contact. Never to feel the touch of another person, never to glimpse upon another human or even yourself again.  Surely that kind of life would be brief.

of course other people live in solitary confinement, for years upon end.  They rarely see another human, conversation is minimal at best.  These people, though, aren’t kept away from society because God demands it, but rather because we demand it,

Break certain laws, behave certain ways and you a experience a form of being walked in. Only you aren’t truly walled in.  You have minimal space, although sometimes you get to leave that space to go to another space.  You are provided food and water because it is illegal to not provide these basics.  Th law doesn’t say you have to be or provided food you like or bottle water.

Years a an easily sail into decades as you linger in this weird twilight of solitary confinement.  You aren’t ever really alone, but you certainly cannot interact with others.

I can’t imagine living that way either.  Clearly being walled in or serving in solitary confinement are not my idea of living at all. I’d rather cease living if that is the life I had to have.

What Do You See?

There is something seriously wrong with my vision apparently.  Either that or how my brain processes the images it sees.  Either way this isn’t a good thing.  Until a few days ago I wasn’t even aware I had this problem.  Of course until a few days ago I had been asked “what do you see” twenty some odd times ass ink blobs or blots were shown to me.

The department decided th ink blot testing was a good way to learn about our personalities.  Actually that’s probably not correct.  The department, like all others, was under a mandate to ensure staff was a right fit.  Didnt matter how long someone had been there either, each personality had to be found, labeled and determined if it fits.

Hence a few days later I found myself being shown a series of ink blots and asked what I saw.  I suck at this.  In an attempt to help me, they gave suggestions, A-D, just like a multiple choice exam.  Still I suck at this.

Not once did I see any of the choices offered.  When given the opportunity to describe what I was seeing, I was told to look again because what I had said was wrong.  Surely there must be something wrong with how I see or process wha I see.  Then again, how accurate can those ink blot tests be?  They certainly don’t match my imagination.  Thankfully the department head has decided I’m still a fit even if I see two fighting shrimps wearing boxing gloves and shorts where I should see a seahorse or an insect! ☺️