Some days I feel like we’re just reading each other’s diaries here in blogland. Which is kind of awesome, to be honest. It means that we’re sharing ourselves with each other and forging connections. Connection is important.
If I were to keep a diary, there would be many posts that read like a diary of a journey through a wasteland searching for water.
“Tuesday, April 4, 2023
Trudging along, no water found, but the camel finally took a shit and can now carry a larger load. Which is good, since many of us are too dehydrated to walk.”
“Thursday, April 6, 2023
Trudged some more today. Found no water, but did encounter a dead cactus. It’s spines punctured George’s boot and we fear it has poisoned him as he is feverish and speaking in tongues.”
“Monday, April 10, 2023
George died last night. Breakfast was steak and some sort of red juice, although I can’t imagine where either came from. This sustenance should allow us to trudge further in our search for water.”
Lately, I’ve felt like I’m just trudging along through life, biding my time until the universe decides I have trudged enough.
My hip hurts. My neck hurts. My shoulders hurt. I have high blood pressure and elevated cholesterol. I need both reading glasses and distance-vision glasses. My lower back hurts.
It pisses me off that my body is now failing me when I need it the most. We are trying to build a house, we have a spring vegetable garden to plant… hell, just making up the bed in an RV takes Herculean effort.
I’m tired. It seems to be the usual state for me here lately, perhaps the universe is in stasis and nothing is changing. I trudge down the hill to the new house, make many decisions, and never see any finished projects or progress. Perhaps tomorrow, I will see the results of some of my decisions. Until then, I shall do my best to nap as I trudge through life.
I’m off to take a nap. Because I’m a “it’s not even noon and I already need a nap” years old.