Churning

 I was awake early (for me). I did not want to be. I did my-lay-with-my-eyes-closed thing. Finally gave up and ate a cardamon roll. 

Did my TikTok.

Tried to do the Wordl. I'm not having fun anymore. There are days that I don't even try. The thing that bugs me is how often the word is the same as five or six others but for one letter.

I'm feeling better most of the time. It's just bleepin weird how the badness swarms me. 

All through these drifting days my brain is churning. Not in a productive way. Just churning.

I continue to believe that the act of writing is worth the effort even when not much comes from it. 

  

Finished a Book

 I wanted to finish a book. Eleanor Oliphant is completely fine, to be exact. So, I sat in a chair and read the dang book. There wasn't much left. It's just hard to read when your eyes are closed because you feel bad. I didn't feel great when started but I was OK by the time I finished. It's a good read. I didn't think I was going to like it at first. Eleanor isn't likable. The more you learn about her the more you want to know. I've been reading slowly because I'm either sick or distracted. 

Being at a loss for anything useful to say about current events is a problem for someone who is trying to write ... every day. 

I had a memory of my Poppop coming to school to pick me up on the day JFK was shot. I can't imagine him picking me up at the school in Texas. He would have tried.

I remember how increasingly violent things felt at that time. Assassinations. Riots. A war on the nightly news. It did not feel like things feel today. Which may just be another sign of my age. 

Sigh

 This is one of those days. It seems wrong to not talk about the ... news. 

All words feel hollow. 

It's Wednesday. Which means Mandy and Ramona were here for breakfast. Good to have company. 

Sigh.

Better-ish

 I keep thinking I'm better and then ... I'm not. I guess maybe I am a little better, but I get taken down by waves of badness. I spend an inordinate amount of time lying about with my eyes closed. Not sleeping, although I do a fair amount of that too. I just need to be quiet. 

Last year, around Memorial Day, I realized that I didn't remember where my Grandparents were buried. I remember going to gravesites with my grandmother on Memorial Day. I think that used to be more of a thing. 

I went on Google and found them. I discovered that Poppop has a stone, but Grandmom does not. I can't imagine why. I reached out to the manager of the graveyard in email to see if he knew a florist in the area who would take flowers to the graves. I received a terse reply offering really pricy maintenance but no way to just place flowers. I struggled with this for a while. 

It's ironic because I don't intend to be buried. There's a thing you can do now. They make compost out of your body. It's one of the best things to do with your body after you die in terms of the ecology. That's what I want to do. 

But I'm still upset about my grandmother not having a stone.