Yesterday was interesting. I went back to work after our mini-vacation. One of the first things my boss did yesterday was give me several garbage bags of flower bulbs and tell me to make them go away.
side note: when the boss tells me to get make something “go away”, he knows there is no “away” and he expects me to figure out what “away” means for any given thing that needs to go. He doesn’t care where it goes as long as he doesn’t have to look at it or deal with it. He has quit listing all of the possible ways to deal with it: eat it, cook with it, feed it to the chickens, compost it, use it to bait a hunting stand to make wild boar come in, trash it…. he knows that I’ll find a way to make it so he doesn’t have to deal with it.
To make a long story short, before the boss left just after lunch, he had given me a lot of stuffs: the flower bulbs, some old corn for Sunshine to bait his hunting stand with, some perfectly good fruits, and a really nice raise. By the end of the day, I also had a giant contractor bag filled with stuff for the compost heap.
side note: I know that I said I wasn’t doing a compost heap anymore until they fixed our problems with it. Mr B was given a giant thing that will be perfect for composting and Sunshine promised help with the stuffs if I brought them home (he delivered, I only had to point and direct traffic when I got home). So I brought home the shit to compost, because even if I don’t get my compost containment device, the chickens will eat it and keep it from going to waste.
All in all, yesterday was a pretty good day. It rained, which washed away some pollen. I got a raise. Sunshine got some old corn to bait the wild pigs. We got some flower bulbs to attract pollinators. We got to add lots to our compost pile (and–thanks to some friend of Mr B’s–there will soon be a way to keep the chickens out of the compost). There was free food. Quite the freeganist delight, no?
However, as my day wore on, I could tell that my back and hip were going to give me fits when I stopped long enough to feel it. I just didn’t realize how bad it was going to be. I wound up on the couch last night. Again. For the second night in a row. This fucking couch is killing me. My ancient back and neck injuries are aggravated by this couch. My most recent back and hip injuries are aggravated by this couch.
I started crying as I was making myself a cup of coffee this morning. I cried so much that Sunshine got a little freaked out.
side note: I know, it wasn’t smart to allow myself to cry. It’s pollen season, I have COPD, yadda yadda blah blah blah…
I cried like a snot-nosed kid. I cried for quite a while. I only stopped once I realized that I was on a collision course with my nebulizer and some steroids, and it was hard as fuck to stop. I pulled myself together and I broke out the medications the doctor gave me for my back and hip–the very medications I thought I was going to be able to taper off. I’ve taken medicine this morning, and am now trying to decide what to watch on Netflix. Because Netflix is the majority of my agenda today. I have some laundry to do before the dirty clothes hamper swells to take over the magic bus like the blob that ate New York, but that is absolutely all I will be doing that doesn’t involve my couch.
I think the crying was more about purging than it was about pain. I needed to purge the despair I was feeling when I realized that my hip hurts almost as badly this morning as it did the day I went to the doctor. As I cried, I realized that I was only making my seasonal sinus problems worse and sending myself into a COPD tailspin, which became a self-fulfilling prophecy and a vicious circle. As I cried, I realized that I had momentarily lost hope that my back and hip will ever heal because I have lost hope that this will ever be a vibrant community filled with people that work for the common good of all who are here. I cried for all the things I wish for and despair of ever seeing. I cried at the possibility that I will hurt like this in my back and hip forever and that I will always struggle to breathe. I cried because I now know I won’t be able to taper off the fucking medications for the back and hip pain (which is really fucking rough for a recovering addict). I cried that, every time it looks like we’re taking two steps forward, something comes along and pushes us at least one step back.
For now, I am done crying. I’m off to find something to binge watch on Netflix and hopefully start healing my back and hip again.