I woke up a couple of hours ago with my head exploding. Imagine sleeping peacefully away, no dreams (that is a sign) and then quite rudely, I must say, I am hit with what I am pretty sure is a Louisville Slugger with the business end drilled out and filled with lead.
Surprises even me that I have a brain cell left.
Took my abortives, which includes this really bitter tasting stuff I snort.Some pills that I take every day to ward off Satan’s imps, who are busy drilling a hole right thru my skull. Some serious painkillers that would only work if they would kill me.Using my O2, which I really don’t like but when a person is thinking about getting shot up with some serious painkillers, it helps to be able to tick off everything I’ve already tried. And unless I am actually weeping, I don’t go in. (That’s
the my new rule). So I have my morning music on..today, it’s Gaelic Storm
But I’m awake and I already ironed Mike’s shirt….which is probably the only household chore I honestly enjoy. I like the way freshly ironed workshirts smell. Learned to iron when I was about five and ironed my Dad’s shirts for years but where I REALLY learned to iron? Like Prince William level of ironing?
Prison. I worked in the day rooms ( inside the units where the cells are) for years and between classes, I had nothing better to do then juke around and see what was going on. Those dudes can IRON. I learned how to truly bonaroo out a shirt and pair of jeans. I still like to iron, especially when I have a headache. It’s a Zen thing,
So on my list this morning (the clinic opens at 0800) is to make the bed (another sign of a headache coming on. It looks like Aerosmith slept there with us last night, Totally trashed). But since the iron is hot already, I’ll iron my pillowcases (it’s a Zen thing) and the top part of the top sheet because it feels good. Clear off the nightstands of the weekend’s collection of Flotsom and his pals, Jetsom. ( I look at the weekend collection of junk and projects, partially read books as real characters. The top of the nightstand is the history of the weekend.)
Vacuum. Start a load of wash. (I’m OCD about washing. It has to be dark to turn the washer ON and I hang dry most of out stuff either on the drying rack in the laundry room or on the rack I have on the veranda. I just like the way stuff smells when they are air dried and God knows, it is usually hot enough here to wash a load in the morning and have it ready to put away in a couple of hours.
I’m rethinking my Shabby Chic plan for this bedroom. I’ve got this eggplant colored medallion stuff that I’ve had for a good long time and lots of it. I was going to use it on the dining room chairs but it’s not quite right. Not totally wrong but misses the mark of right by an eensy.
So, off I hie until the clinic opens. I’ve little enough to do and may not have to go at all.