wandering wordsmith

A person probably shouldn’t write updates when she’s in a long, ugly trough. Unfortunately, doing so means I can procrastinate doing anything a little longer. Almost all of January I lacked the energy or enthusiasm to do much of anything—even keep up with my journal, which I’ve done, though boringly, every day for years. I just don’t give much of a crap about anything. Can’t concentrate very well. Not sleeping well. Feel about as mentally sharp as wet plaster, and don’t even care much. Perhaps most distressing, and forgive me if I’ve already whined about this, is that I’m not getting the endorphins I usually get after a workout. That has never happened before, ever in my life, and it’s sheer dogged determination that I’m still doing it.

Yet I am. Not quite as religiously as I was (not every single day, but most days), but still gritting my teeth and doing it. It doesn’t help that this has been yet another Idiot Week, which is requiring me to put in roughly two hours a day more than usual, which means I haven’t been getting finished with it in time to get Missy Blue to the park for her run. It still gets dark too early. Still, I dragged her down today (an easy chore; you say the word “park” and she’s at the door) and walked her back up the trail. We got a ways farther than we usually do and turned back up into the steep part. Even she was ready to turn around and come back after that. And a youngster on a bicycle went by us on his way up the mountain, and passed us coming back on the way down. I felt slow and old. I miss my youth. I’m pooped, and so is she, so maybe we’ll get some decent sleep tonight.

Finally got my fancy new iPod up and running. It’s pretty awesome, although it has a learning curve. Bassmaster tells me that putting audiobooks on it can be a pain, so I’m surveying friends with iPods to see how they handle it. I do not understand how a tech device can not have a directory structure, or how its owner can’t define that structure. I hope the liberry audiobook downloads will work OK with it. I guess we’ll see.

Got to wish Northwood and Bassmaster happy birfdays. Pretty spooky to think my oldest baby child is 31! Gave Grandma the willies, too, but she forgot about it in a few minutes.

I have found a new CBC show to watch. Called “Death Comes to Town,” it is rude, crass, politically incorrect, disgusting and absurd, which is probably why I like it. This is definitely not the genteel Death of Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. I laughed so hard last week that my sides hurt the next day, despite the fact that it triggered gag reflexes a few times. I must be a sick puppy.

Oh. The balloon on the cranberry hooch is still not really inflating, although it’s sort of standing at half-mast. This is about mid-cycle for fermentation, so it ought to be big and fat. Bah.

Hope y’all’s world is happier than mine.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010 at 9:02 pm and is filed under Family. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.