We’ve been dealing with some brutal heat and humidity lately. It usually doesn’t get this hot until late July and August. Already, the world in front of me shimmers with heat waves rising from the ground.The air weighs on my shoulders and sears my lungs. My throat stays dry and scratchy. My skin stays sticky with sweat and gritty with dirt. It’s difficult to breathe.
The heat and humidity aggravate my COPD, but staying inside is not a viable option. I have my job to go to, I have a yard that needs mowing, the fenceline and shit need to be weedeated, I should probably go turn my compost pile, the dog wants me to play, the cats need to be tended to at least a little bit, there’s a fucktonne of shit that needs to be dealt with inside the pink house, laundry is piling up again, Mollie keeps making messes, and a bunch of other shit I can’t even bring myself to think about right now.
Sunshine is dealing with some major medical issues, and the treatments are not kind to his body, so he’s only able to help on a limited basis. At least I have his mind to help with problem-solving, which is actually a big help in and of itself.
However, there are some things Sunshine just can’t help with. Like the bullshit red-tape that I’m wading through trying to get our vehicles registered in Texas.One of his trucks has passed safety inspection, and that is it. We still have my car to deal with, and two vehicles that will probably not get Texas registration because fuck Texas bureaucratic nonsense when it comes to the non-essential things.
Sunshine also can’t do a damn thing about my COPD. It’s kicking my ass lately. The fatigue is indescribable; my muscles feel like I’ve been at the gym or on a WWE show at the arena, and I don’t know where I’m getting the strength or energy to keep them moving. I’m tired, and there is no end in sight.
I’m sure I’ll pay dearly for this in the not-so-distant-future. I’m using up spoons at a rate that would make the sub-prime lending spree (the one that cratered most of the world’s economy) look like nothing. The physical strain is bad enough, but the mental strain is almost worse. I feel like I could just crawl into the corner and cry for days. The problem with that is that A) it will make my breathing problems worse and B) it will make me that much more tired.
At this point, all I know to do is go try and sort through some of the crap in the pink house until late in the afternoon when the temperature starts easing downward so I can go start the weedeater. At least Sunshine should be able to handle the riding lawnmower, so there is that to cross off of my to-do list.
Maybe tomorrow, Miss Mollie will let me sleep in a bit.