Tag: gout

Breakin’ Dishes

Well, it definitely is not gout, Constant Reader. The antibiotic cream prescribed by my doctor has made a remarkable difference with my toe since I started using it yesterday; this morning it isn’t even reddish anymore and bending it hardly is noticeably painful. AH, modern medicine, and sorry I doubted you, Doctor. I did get tired eventually last evening; shortly after finally finishing yesterday’s post I repaired to my easy chair where I watched a few more episodes of Netflix’ The Movies That Made Us, primarily the ones about Friday the 13th, Aliens, and Nightmare on Elm Street. It’s always somewhat lovely to revisit pop culture of the 1980’s, even though it was mostly a pretty shitty decade overall. The difference between 80’s movies and 70’s cinema was dramatic, as I learned during my Cynical 70’s Film Festival back during the early days of the pandemic when I was making hundreds of condom packs every day sitting in my living room during what I was never completely convinced weren’t the end times.

I do have some more cleaning and straightening up to do around here today around working on my book. Yes, I am definitely digging into the book today. I slept like the dead last night, and even stayed up later than usual (Paul came home before I went to bed) and slept an extra hour later this morning being a lag-a-bed until nine (the horror!). I’m feeling very well rested this morning on all three planes of existence–physical, emotional, intellectual–so it should be a great and highly productive day. It’s cold this morning–in the forties outside–and yesterday I had to turn the air on because it was stuffy in here and the clothes weren’t drying. Turn the air conditioning on and cool it down a couple of degrees and it made a significant difference. (I’m always interested in that weird range of temperature where it’s really not hot enough to need the air conditioning, but the air is thick enough so that clothes won’t dry unless it’s colder and the damp is taken out of the air; I also always sleep best on the night that I launder the bed linens) But I am going to have some coffee, do some straightening up here in the office, maybe read for an hour or so, and then get cleaned up and parked at my desk for however long I can stand it today. My coffee is tasting pretty marvelous this morning too; always a plus and always a good sign.

I also spent some time last night revisiting Vito Russo’s The Celluloid Closet in what was probably the first time in about thirty years, which is kind of terrifying when you think about it. I discovered Russo back in the day when I was discovering the rich culture and heritage of my community, when I was venturing into gay bookstores and had started reading the gay papers and magazines in search of my people and some sort of definition of what it meant to be a gay man in the United States at that time. The Russo book was the first seminal text in critiquing the entertainment industry and its participatory role in enforcing the homophobic standards of the times (if not helping to create those standards by the erasure of queer people and themes in entertainments). Russo set out to show how Hollywood’s erasure, or stereotypic rendering, of queer people served to enforce those social dynamics and mores that were suppressing our community and relegating those who identified as members of that community as outsiders, a lower caste, and separate from the dominant culture. I’d love to see a popular nonfiction version of Russo’s work that focuses on representation in crime fiction; I have neither the research skills nor the patience to write such a book myself. One of the things I enjoyed the most about the Russo book was finding out what films had queer content erased from their original source material; like the film Crossfire, about anti-Semitism in the military, was based on a book called The Brick Foxhole, which was about homophobia in the military; the murder victim wasn’t a Jewish soldier but a gay one. The alcoholic Ray Milland won an Oscar for playing in the film of The Lost Weekend drank because he had writer’s block; in the book he drank because he couldn’t handle his homosexuality in a homophobic society. The mini-series made from Dress Gray saved the reveal of the dead cadet’s sexuality for a plot twist at the end; in Lucien Truscott IV’s novel it was right there, revealed on page one and treated, really, throughout the entire book as not a particularly big deal (I’ve been meaning to reread Dress Gray; it was one of the few books I read as a teenager that didn’t treat homosexuality as a hideous moral failing, a massive sin, and/or something just revolting and disgusting, just as I’ve been meaning to reread Pat Conroy’s The Lords of Discipline–you just know there had to be a queer or two at Carolina Military Institute).

I also remember discovering queer mysteries for the first time at the gay bookstore in Tampa, and thinking you’ve always wanted to write mysteries, why don’t you write them with gay characters and themes? And thus the seed was planted–by Michael Nava, Richard Stevenson, and Steve Johnson–that grew into my becoming a gay mystery writer in every sense of the term: I’m gay, I’m a gay writer, and I write gay mysteries.

So, that’s where my mind was last night; thinking about the very limited queer rep I’d been exposed to as a reader growing up and how discovering gay fiction by gay writers about gay life and experiences–books–essentially changed my life and the trajectory of my writing. I think my writing began to improve when I started writing what I knew–the tired old trope of write what you know–because I was writing about my truths and experiences and feelings about being a gay man in a homophobic country; that was how I found authenticity and truth in my writing, and was able to extrapolate that outward into writing about other lives, other people, other experiences.

And of course, the Lefty Award banquet is tonight. I’m cheering on my friends and fellow nominees from afar. It’s a pleasure and a thrill to be nominated for Best Humorous Mystery; I never expected in a million years to ever be nominated for a Lefty and then it happened, so A Streetcar Named Murder continues on as my “first” of many things. I’m not sure which of the other four nominees will have their name called tonight, but it’s an honor to lose to any of my fellow nominees. (I also never thought I’d be nominated for an Agatha, and yet here we are; I’ve been having a hell of a twelve month period, am I not? Two Anthony nominations, a Lefty, and an Agatha; who’s a lucky Gregalicious?)

And on that note, I am going to make another cup of coffee and go curl up for a bit with a book for a little reading pleasure this morning before I go to work. Have a lovely Saturday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

Unfaithful

Well, this would normally be a work-at-home Friday blog, but we have a staff meeting that I have to go in for this morning, so there’s that. But we made it through another week, Constant Reader, and lived to tell the tale, which is marvelous, of course. I got to sleep an extra hour later this morning, which is lovely, and I am now having a quite delicious cup of coffee. The doctor doesn’t think I have gout; rather, he thinks it’s an infection of sorts, and prescribed an antibiotic cream. I am also supposed to keep the foot elevated as much as possible, as well as to soak it in hot water and epsom salts several times a day as well as taking Advil three times per day to get the rest of the swelling down. I’m glad it’s not gout, of course, but I’m also not certain that it isn’t. But we’ll see how it goes this weekend; if it’s all better by Monday I guess he was right.

I’m actually rather excited that it’s the weekend almost; I am looking forward to diving headfirst into the manuscript and making excellent progress. I feel good this morning, too–not like low energy, or like it’s not going to be a good day on any level–so that’s a good thing. I think my body has adapted to the time change and to getting up in the morning again, which is always helpful. I think the time change is why I had such a shitty sleep Sunday night which made Monday kind of a lost day for me. I was tired after going to the doctor and had things to do when I got home–putting away dishes, laundry, etc.–and by the time I was finished I was a bit fatigued, and of course once Scooter crawled into my lap it was over. I watched a documentary about how the Kansas State football team–once one of the worst in the sport–rebranded and rebuilt itself into a winning team, something no one ever thought would ever happen. (I love when traditionally terrible football teams turn it around; I kind of have a soft spot for both Kentucky and Vanderbilt, for example, in the SEC because they rarely, if ever, succeed. I have a thing for underdogs–and no one should ever think a traditionally bad team can’t be turned around; not when you have the New Orleans Saints example right in front of you, either.)

I’m not sure how much Paul is going to be around as the countdown to the festivals continue. I know the SEC Gymnastics meet is this weekend and he’ll want to watch that, so maybe he’ll be around on Saturday. *shrugs* Who knows? But I have a lot of work to get caught up on, and of course all the chores around the apartment that I am behind on need to be done. Groceries shouldn’t be a need this weekend since Paul will be out of the house starting on Wednesday, and I am not sure when or how much time I am going to be down in the Quarter that weekend, either. I can always go hole up in Paul’s suite to write and edit, if need be, but there’s also the possibility–a very high one–of overstimulation; I’m still not used to being around large groups of people. I was never great in those situations to begin with; after the pandemic I’m not even remotely as close to being decent in those situations. I know at Bouchercon I would get overwhelmed in the bar so always tried to stay out the outer fringes of that enormous crowd. So, we’ll see how all this goes with my flagging energy and my inability to remember things.

This was also a big week for awards shortlists; the Hammett Prize, the Lambdas, and the Thriller Award finalists were all announced this week. Lots of friends, as always, nominated for awards, but my joy for Barb Goffman, who landed a Thriller nomination for Best Short Story for her contribution to Land of 10000 Thrills, “The Gift” knows no bounds. It’s always lovely when people who’ve contributed stories to one of my anthologies gets recognized for their work; primarily because it reflects well on my editorial choices and I can also take a tiniest little piece of credit for publishing the story in the first place. (Like how I am always excited when something I’ve contributed a piece to gets a nomination or a win; How to Write a Mystery‘s almost complete sweep of everything it qualified for was a bit of a thrill since I had a piece in it.) The Lefty Awards will be presented on Saturday, but I have zero chance of winning since I am not there–since attendees vote over the weekend, not being there is a hindrance (not that I would have run around begging people to vote for me anyway) to winning. (I probably would still have zero chance of winning even were I there; there are some juggernauts in the category with a strong track record of winning awards.) I do miss being there and seeing everyone, but with the Festivals coming up this next weekend and me going to Malice next month…there’s no way I could have squeezed a trip to Left Coast in this month without a complete physical, mental and emotional collapse.

Well, I didn’t finish writing this entry before I had to leave for work; the time somehow slipped through my fingers and the next thing I knew, I was worried about being late and rushed on out of here, leaving this as a task to finish after work-at-home duties. I did manage to get the prescription for the medicated gel for my toe my doctor prescribed, and it seems to be working. I’ve only used one application and the ache/pain seems to be gone, and I can bend it again without agony running up to my brain, so I guess my doctor knows what he’s talking about. I hate doubting my doctor; I’d much rather believe everything he says without question. I don’t want to be one of those patients, but when you’re a natural-born worrier with a touch of obsessiveness, well, that’s a line that I am always afraid I am going to cross with my doctor. Maybe now I can just relax and believe everything he says.

As if.

Hilariously, it’s now even later on Friday evening and this still isn’t finished or posted. I started doing laundry and pruning books and cleaning/straightening/organizing, and got sidetracked from this yet again until I sat down, woke up the computer and saw the cursor blinking here on this page, and thought, whoops, if I don’t my streak of daily posts will come to an end and so here I am , trying to finish this while still leaving things to talk about on here tomorrow morning. (I did a quick reread of The Celluloid Closet by Vito Russo, the first time in decades, and was a bit surprised at what year his book finished in; I was like, wow, I was actually looking forward to hearing his thoughts on Priscilla and To Wong Foo…more on that tomorrow morning.) I have also continued to put the gel on my toe and I cannot believe the significant difference it has made already. Definitely saving whatever is leftover in case this ever happens the fuck again, right? Sheesh.

And on that note, I am finally going to bring this to its inevitable and long overdue close. It’s been a hot minute since it took me all day to write an entry. Be back in the morning, and have a lovely evening.

Umbrella

It’s funny, but the word umbrella is now forever linked to Tom Holland in my brain because of his brilliant lip sync of it.

I overslept this morning; I hit snooze when the alarm went off and the second time, I usually turn it off and get up. This morning I turned it off and fell asleep again. Fortunately, I woke up ten minutes later so no harm to my day, other than the off-balance feeling that comes from it not being the usual get up before dawn morning. (I easily could have slept another two hours, at least.) Tomorrow my work-at-home day will be built entirely around the delivery of the new dryer; they’re supposed to call me tonight to give me my “two-hour window” period for planning purposes. On the one hand, I kind of hope it’s early so I can get it out of the way and start catching up on laundry; on the other I kind of want it to be later so I don’t have to get up early yet again tomorrow. My coffee seems to be working, though; my brain is alert even if most of my body is still relaxed into sleep mode.

I made groceries yesterday on the way home from the office, and I broke down and bought some frozen Lean Cuisines to bring for lunch, as back-ups for when I don’t want to cook anything or things get out of whack the way they have been lately. Yesterday I brought a salad and by the time I got off work was so hungry I almost felt sick; naturally, by the time I shopped and got home and put everything away the hunger had gone away. I did empty the dishwasher and refill it to run another load; I still have some dishes in the sink and so hopefully tonight I will get the dishes caught up. I’m sure deliverymen have seen apartments in much worse shape than ours, but I still don’t want it to be disgusting when they bring the dryer tomorrow (really glad I cleaned out from behind the dryer when I had it moved; I should do that more than every seven to ten years, probably). Scooter of course wanted a warm lap and didn’t really give me much chance to get things done before the howling commenced, and he pretty much spent the entire evening in my lap. I know he’s missing Paul, who is hardly ever home in these weeks leading up to the Festivals, which is yet another reason I always commute between the hotel and the Lost Apartment over that weekend.

I turned in a story yesterday for an anthology that I am not entirely sure it’s right for, but I like the story and would love to see it finished and in print at some point. I also started pulling together another short story collection yesterday–just to see how much material I had and how much new material would be needed, and lo and behold, the collection currently sits at 72, 143 words without an introduction or conclusion; the sweet spot is always between 80 and 100k words. So, apparently not much more is needed; as little as two or as many as five to six stories, or one single novella. It’s going to be called This Town and Other Stories, and I also realized yesterday that, like Daphne du Maurier, the category of fiction where my short stories fall is macabre–a combination or cross between horror, suspense, and crime. (Maybe the title should be This Town and Other Macabre Tales?) It felt good to turn the story in–even if it’s wrong for the anthology–because I also had to edit and polish it before turning it in, and it felt good to be doing that kind of work again. I want to get a lot done this weekend–going to make lists for every day to keep me on track like I did last weekend–and will probably try to get any and all errands finished on Saturday so I can relax, sleep in, and just hang out around the house working and doing stuff on Sunday. I’m beginning to enjoy my weekends again, because while yes, I have a lot to do and a lot to get done, it’s nice to not feel stressed on my weekends with the sense of impending doom just out of sight–but visible out the corner of my eye. It’s nice to get relaxing sleep and rest for a change.

The toe is still painful but now I can walk without limping or wincing. I’m aware of it, and of course the longer the days goes and the more I walk on it the more it starts hurting–I made it till almost bedtime last night without limping–but I am seeing my doctor next week. If it is either psoriatic arthritis or gout, at least there’s treatment and medication options. I already take enough medication that I am hesitant to add more to the mix…but then again, I am over sixty and have never taken care of myself so I should be grateful that there are still treatment options.

Tonight after work I am going straight home. The mail can wait until tomorrow, and I don’t have any other errands that are necessary before Saturday, anyway. I hope to put away the dishes, do another load, and possibly even start doing some laundry. I know there are at least two loads of clothes that need doing (always a joy) and I can still use the dryer in the carriage house–and since the toe isn’t so bad, walking over there and climbing the steps to the second floor isn’t as bad as it was. I want to read more of Cheryl’s book so I can write about it here (as well as start preparing for the panel I am moderating), and I need to get back to writing and editing and all of that fun stuff.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Have a lovely Thursday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again tomorrow.

She’s So Cold

I was tired last evening when I got home from work, so didn’t get a lot of anything done; in fact, I’m not really sure I remember what I actually did last night when I got home from work? I must have been really tired, don’t you think? Scooter kept waking me up throughout the night howling; it was kind of annoying and he’s taken to howling pretty regularly. I am not sure what is wrong with him per se; it does concern me that something might be wrong with him, but there’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s the same howl when he’s hungry or needs water and sometimes, he just stands in the living room and howls.

I made the appointment yesterday finally with my doctor to get my toe looked at; it’s almost completely better now and will probably be fine by the time I get in to see him. Not to worry, though; I took a picture of it at its worst. I also made another crucial medical appointment, and now still have to make the appointment with the ENT and my dentist and my eye doctor; I’m going to try to get as much taken care of as I can this year. I’m a bit groggy this morning, and I know we have a full schedule at the office today, which is cool–the day will fly by–but I will probably be exhausted when I get home; seeing that many clients tends to wear me out and run me down, but I should swing by and get the mail on my way home. Hopefully I won’t be too tired to get some things done tonight, either. The sink is full of dirty dishes from Sunday night, for one thing. Sigh. I didn’t even read when I got home, either. I don’t know what was going on with me last night when I got home from work, seriously–or why I can’t remember what I did last night, either.

Oh, yes, now I remember. I had a phone call last night with someone and it lasted for over an hour, and that exertion of extroversion was what completely did me in last evening once I was home. I collapsed into my easy chair, watched videos about World War II on Youtube for a couple of hours, and then went to bed relatively early–around nine, to be exact. I slept decently, or would have, had Scooter not been in a mood last night, and that consistently interrupted night of sleep is why I am a bit out of it this morning. Hopefully my morning coffee will do the trick and snap me out of this whatever it is I am feeling this morning. It certainly is going down well this morning–and it was last night when I was messing with my medical apps and making appointments for myself. Mystery solved! And, in fairness, not really a terribly memorable night at all; no wonder I couldn’t remember what I did last night at first. I also started rereading a story for an anthology, editing it to make it cleaner, tighter and more concise–always a help when you’re working on a short story–and that actually felt kind of good to me to do, in all honesty. I also got my panel assignments for Saints and Sinners as well as the panel I am moderating, which I am going to need to be prepared for–preparation always helps with the horrible stage fright i always have before a panel, or the exhaustion that comes after said panel has finished.

But I am actually looking forward to it this year, which I didn’t last year because I was in the weeds with a book and being EVP of MWA and….so much, really. I will be commuting between our suite at the hotel and the Lost Apartment so we won’t have to board Scooter, and lots of friends are coming in this year. We were also still in that weird pandemic place last year, too–not that it’s over now by any means, but people still cared about it then–so running down and coming home wasn’t really as disappointing as it ordinarily would have been in a more “normal” year.

I am also feeling a little tired today and will probably have to be a vegetable when I get home from work tonight. I don’t have to make any stops other than to pick up the mail, and I probably should make something that I can bring for lunch the rest of the week. If I have the energy to clean the kitchen I might go ahead and just make a big bowl of salad that I can take for work the rest of this week. I kind of need to start changing my diet gradually if this issue with my toe is actually gout; exercise won’t solve that problem but diet will–exercise will help with the other issues I have, blood pressure and cholesterol, and the change in diet will help those issues as well. I basically am going to have to primarily be a vegetarian and avoid meats, especially red meats–which of course are my favorites. But if I recall what I read correctly, I think even turkey and chicken are problematic, too. I guess eating salads for lunch and more greens in general is a step in the right direction, at any rate.

I still can’t wrap my mind around the idea that I may have gout.

I suppose that’s better that psoriatic arthritis.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Sorry to be so brief and dull today; that’s what happens when Greggy is feeling groggy. Have a terrific Tuesday and I will see you again tomorrow.

Can’t Stop the World

Monday morning has rolled around again and I am up before the sun rises yet again. Neither brain nor body wanted me to get up and heed the siren song of the alarm, but there was no escaping the inevitably of getting up and heading into the office yet again. Yesterday was a mixture of days; I got things done in the morning but after making groceries, I was oddly tired and physically exhausted. I did manage to read a few more chapters of Cheryl Head’s marvelous Time’s Undoing, which is very good and I’m enjoying it a lot, even as I wince at the past sections set in 1929, at its unerring and accurate depiction of the Jim Crow South. I honestly, as a Southern man, see no problem with reading about Southern history accurately; and certainly, seeing Jim Crow through the eyes of people of Color is a reminder than no matter how bad I may have thought things were, it still wasn’t a reality I would have had to either face or deal with, and it was so much worse than I can ever imagine it–and I have a very vivid imagination. Yesterday’s exhaustion was unexpected and out of nowhere, particularly coming in the wake of two pretty good days and a good morning as well. But grief is sneaky like that, is never linear, and can literally come from nowhere. There’s also the issues involved with my bout of long COVID from last summer and how my energy levels have never really recovered from that, either.

And don’t even get me started on the memory issues.

I am hopeful for a good week; I know I’ll eventually start experiencing being tired from exerting myself at work; it’s interesting that someone with shyness issues like me has wound up working as a counselor–but one-on-one and with a purpose to the conversation makes it much easier than having a conversation with someone I’ve just met at a party. Small talk is literally my Kryptonite, and of course, being socially awkward is my lifelong jam.

I did rewatch Mildred Pierce last night on TCM after Paul went to the office, and once again I marvel at what a terrific film it was–melodramatic and over-the-top, for sure, but the addition of the murder rescued the movie from not working. I need to reread the book–it’s been a hot minute–but the one thing I’ve never really gotten from either is a sense of who Veda is and why she is the way she is; spoiled and rotten and manipulative. In order for Cain to get his point across about Mildred and her own obsession with mothering, Veda turns out to be horrible and one-dimensional; everyone sees that Veda is horrible except Mildred–obsessed with being the perfect mother and giving Veda everything, it’s also a smothering, all-encompassing kind of love that most teens would rebel against and struggle to get away from. I remember about ten years ago I wanted to write Veda’s point of view; either a retelling of the story from her point of view or a sequel to the novel (no murder, remember?) which picks up with Veda some years later, having parlayed her singing and musical talents into a film career. That’s one of the things I love the most about Cain’s work, really; so much can be read into it, and so many great ideas can be inspired by rereading his work. I’ve not read the entire Cain canon–that “never want to run out of books to read by any author” thing I struggle with–but I’ve read quite a bit. Chlorine is really my first real attempt to write a noir; I cannot wait to get back to work on that. It’s already been delayed for far too long, and once i get through these contracted books, Chlorine is going to be my focus.

Finally, right? LOL. But I do eventually get around to the projects I talk about writing for years, don’t I? I talked about the Kansas book for well over a decade before #shedeservedit saw print.

I think today is going to be a good day. I feel rested this morning, and I slept really well. The toe is still twinging; I am beginning to suspect it really is gout. I went to WebMD (which I always tell my clients not to do) and the list of foods to avoid? Everything I eat, basically. So, I am going to have to bite the bullet, schedule an appointment with my doctor, and get on with things, you know? I don’t why I’ve dithered and dicked around about this for so long, either. Just another thing I didn’t want to have to deal with so I kept kicking the can down the street, which isn’t wise. Nothing ever fixes itself, you know; a lesson I keep having to relearn over and over again. I also need to schedule an appointment with the hearing specialist, a dentist, and make an eye appointment while I am at it. Yay. But I need to start and keep up with all this routine maintenance, especially if I want to start going back to the gym in April. I also need to start doing push-ups, crunches, and stretch every day too. Maybe I will climb back on that horse this evening when I get home from the office; stranger things have happened in the past and will probably continue into the future as well. The kitchen is a mess, too; I made dinner last night, so when I get home tonight I’ll have to clean the kitchen again and maybe even get the rest of the straightening up taken care of as well. I am definitely going to be taking books to the library sale this coming Saturday, and I also want to wash the car this weekend and vacuum it all out. I also want to spend some more time with Cheryl’s book this evening. So, so much to do and work on and get done. I also have to start preparing for moderating panels for the two Festivals coming up in a couple of weeks…yikes.

And on that note, I am heading into the spice mines. Hope you have a lovely day, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

This Town

And here is it Sunday.

I woke up yesterday around eight, with the positive attitude I went to bed with on Friday night virtually intact. I felt very rested and ready to go, and it was lovely to come downstairs to a kitchen/office that was already very well organized and not needing a whole lot of additional work to look, you know, presentable, which was very lovely. I made myself coffee, posted yesterday morning’s blog, and then spent some time cleaning out my inbox and writing emails to send off on Monday morning (I do not send emails on the weekends; emails beget emails and the weekends are, at least in my case, about multi-tasking and getting things done as well as getting rested, and emails are always a stressor.) I was also quite pleased with the job I had done on the living room as well; it still needed some more work, but the Lost Apartment is starting to look…habitable again? I know, I know, stop that crazy talk already, right?

I also ordered our new dryer, which will be delivered and installed on work-at-home Friday, thus ending the dryer drama that’s been going on for well over a month or so; I think it started when I got home from Wetumpka? I don’t know, but I think that’s what happened–the load of clothes I took to Alabama that weekend wouldn’t dry, and that was that. I also realized that this past weekend was the first weekend this year I’ve had a chance to really relax. In January I was killing myself writing a manuscript, then I turned that in and went to the library events in Alabama that weekend, and then of course the Mom stuff started. I was actually in New Orleans last weekend, but I was still dealing with the initial shock and loss after the funeral that weekend. This was my first kind of free weekend this year. Yesterday morning I spent some time reading Cheryl Head’s new release (it’s very good, for the record), and then spent some time on my own work for a while. I also cleaned and organized and filed a lot, too. Today I have to make groceries, but am probably going to do that this morning after perhaps a second cup of coffee, primarily to get it out of the way more than anything else. I have a lengthy to-do list for today as well, and hope to get some decent reading time in, too. (Hilariously, I looked at the delivery window for the dryer and it’s 7 am till 9 pm–now that is a delivery window!)

I feel well rested this morning. I was dozing off in my easy chair last night around nine, and while it was still relatively early, decided you might as well go ahead and go to bed if you’re falling asleep rather than stay up just to stay up, and there was definitely some wisdom in that thought so I went up to bed around nine thirty. I think my body clock has sadly, and finally, shifted to being used to getting up early and going to bed before ten. This is not something I am thrilled about, I must add. But it’s life, one supposes, and must adjust accordingly. I must say I miss the days when I could sleep until noon. But those days are long in the past now, I am afraid. I like this make a to-do list for every day of the weekend thing I started this weekend; I made a list yesterday morning of the things I wanted to get done yesterday; I got most of them done, and so hence I made a similar list of the things I want to get done today, which will then extrapolate into the to-do list for the rest of the week. I’m getting organized again, people–and I think what I was actually feeling yesterday was the relief of feeling almost on top of everything again for the first time since 2020.

I also finally watched All That Jazz last night, at the suggestion of a friend, and I have to say I was a lot more impressed with the movie than I thought I would be. I wasn’t much into Bob Fosse when I was younger. It took me several viewings before I finally saw Cabaret for what it was–and I don’t think it was a coincidence that it took the 2016 election before I realized and recognized the movie’s message and came to appreciate it as the classic it actually is. (I also greatly enjoyed Fosse/Verdon when it aired.) Who knows? Maybe in my old age I am finally beginning to appreciate musicals? This morning I am going to enjoy my coffee for a bit, read for a little while and then make that grocery run to get it over and done with, then coming back home to put the food away and get cleaned up and take a shower and get back to work. I do have a load of laundry to wash here and then lug over to the carriage house to dry (the last time I will have to do this, huzzah). I also have a bit more organizing and filing that can be done (my computer files are an epic disaster area and probably always will be), and there’s always cleaning that can be done. I need to pack another box of donations for the library, and probably need to clean out some more beads to be donated, which I’ve been meaning to do since last Mardi Gras; as always, there’s always plenty of things that need to be done around here. I also framed some things that should be hung at some point, if only I knew where to put them. And if the weather’s nice next weekend, maybe I can do the windows? It’s been years since I’ve cleaned the windows, or so it seems.

And on that note, I am going to go read for a bit while elevating and icing my toe, which still aches a bit. I hit it accidentally yesterday when moving one of the trash bins alongside the house and holy Mother of God did that hurt like a motherfucker. I’m beginning to think it is gout. But one of the things I need to put on the list for this week is getting in touch with my doctor about the toe. Who knew gout was even still a thing? I assumed it was something we had renamed or something, but no, it’s still a thing, just not as common as it used to be. And apparently one of its triggers is emotional stress. Gee, wonder if I’ve had anything like that lately? Heavy heaving sigh. But I’d like to at least get this taken care of before Saints and Sinners, you know?

And on that note, I am repairing to my easy with Cheryl’s book and an icepack and the pillows needed to elevate said foot. Have a great Sunday, Constant Reader, and I will check in with you again later.

Winning Ugly

Well, once I’ve swilled enough coffee I’ll be loading up the car and driving north yet again. And while my trip last weekend involved only driving through Alabama, this is my third consecutive weekend of travel that somehow involves my birth state. I’ve been gone the last three weekends; I am not sure I am going to know how to act next weekend when I actually get to stay home for a change. I’ll drive back first thing Monday morning, so I can get home before the Orpheus parade, and then I’ll be on bereavement leave for the rest of next week. I could have taken it this past week but I also didn’t know when the funeral was going to be so I just went into the office every day this week and muddled through. I know this next week isn’t going to end with everything healed and me past it all–you never get over it, you just learn to live with it–but I need the time to actually recalibrate and settle back into my normal life, which I’ve not really had much opportunity to do these last few weeks. After the trip to the library events then came Mom’s issues and here we are. Throw parade season into the mix for added discombobulation, the whatever-it-is-I-did-to-my-toe–and let’s also not forget my dryer stopped working before the library events weekend, which hasn’t helped either. I’m going to try to fix it–if its just the fuse–after Fat Tuesday is over and I can head over to Lowe’s while looking at repair videos on Youtube; if that doesn’t work then we need to get a new one, which sucks–we also need a new refrigerator, which has been even more of a challenge, because all refrigerators now are too tall to fit into the cubby hole made for it by the kitchen cabinets, which may mean the cabinets over the refrigerator need to be taken out, which is an even bigger pain in the ass than just getting a new refrigerator. I really want one with the freezer on the bottom to alleviate stooping and bending (I’m getting really old, y’all), but those are all too big to fit but even the traditional freezer on top ones are too tall for the space, which is strange and weird and who knows what all.

I slept really well last night. I kept my toe elevated most of the day and was occasionally alternating between hot and cold on it, so it’s not quite so swollen and painful this morning. I think the smartest thing for me to actually do is just wear my house shoes to drive in the car–they will keep the toe cushioned better than my regular shoes–and while it may very well be gout (Paul and another friend have suggested it as a possibility, which I wouldn’t have considered, I’m thinking it might not be. I do have psoriasis and that too can cause an arthritis attack–if that is what this is; gout is a form of arthritis), there are all kinds of other options. The primary concern that I have is that my only option may be going to the emergency room, and how long will something as low-priority as having gout or pain in my big toe keep me in the waiting room there? But I do think it’s something I need to do Monday when I get back here–if it doesn’t clear up. If it does…I don’t know. Like I said, it still hurting this morning but not nearly as bad as it did yesterday so maybe keeping it elevated and alternating heat and cold is the right way to go with it more tonight? I honestly don’t know, but I do know this couldn’t have happened at a less opportune time. But at least it isn’t throbbing today, which it did yesterday. Progress? Improvement? I’ll take either one. I don’t think the driving will help, but who knows? And at least the Hampton Inn should have an ice machine, which should make it much easier to ice it.

And I suppose once I am home on Monday, then I can start the moving on with my life. Before I leave this morning there are some chores around the house I’d like to do (mainly so I don’t have to come home to them after the funeral) and of course I have to swing by a gas station (I don’t really want to even think about my gas credit card bill) on the way out. According to Google Maps, it’s a five and a half hour drive of 349 miles, approximately. Since the first of the month I think, by the time I get home, I will have driven about five or so thousand miles? I hadn’t even hit thirty thousand miles on the odometer since buying the car back in 2017 yet before all this started–and if you take drives to Kentucky and/or Alabama for the library events, I don’t think I would even have twenty thousand miles on it, frankly. This past week has been a weird one. As it progressed I found myself getting less overwhelmed and sad and breaking down as much later in the week than I had earlier in the week, so I guess that’s all a part of the process, and the funeral itself will be the final curtain on all of this. It’s still hard for my mind to entirely grasp yet–oh yeah Mom’s gone–but it’s going to be much easier on me than it is on the rest of the family; they saw her all the time while I only saw her once or twice a year. I’ve not gone down the I could have been a better son route–mainly because I dealt with all that guilt a long time ago and have moved past it all; it is what it was and I’ve never wasted energy on regret, nor am I about to now…although I’ve come close a couple of times since Mom’s death. I also have to pack, but I’m not terribly worried about that. I am going to wear sweats in the car (and my house shoes) and so all I really need to pack is socks and underwear and my shaving kit. I also need to try on my black slacks to see if they fit, else I’ll have to go to Walmart at some point and buy a new pair that will fit my fat ass.

Heavy sigh. Seriously.

And on that note, I am going to make something to eat, get some more coffee, and start getting organized for yet another weekend drive. Sorry, Ladies of Iris–I am going to miss your parade for only the second time since 1996. Talk to you later, Constant Reader.