Yesterday ended up being a day off for cleaning.
I walked into my closet and it was a mess of clothes on the floor and boxes spread around so that when I pushed on the door I couldn’t get into it.
I live in a small apartment so when one room is messy it spreads to the other rooms. I walked away from it and started the dishwasher. I had started cooking again. It’s hard to to cook in the summer here with the heat. But a few days ago I had made chicken stock and red roasted pepper sauce so I would have it in the freezer when I wanted to make my style of spaghetti or pizza.
So it started with cleaning up the messes on the counters and then scrubbing the floor. I just got a new steam mop and it picks up dirt that I can’t get in other ways. When I got the kitchen to a semblance of organization, then I went to that closet. I washed clothes and put things away. I threw plastic boxes on shelves.
There were consequences. My back started to hurt about halfway through cleaning. I try not to remember how I used to be able to clean an apartment in a couple of days from top to bottom. I’m looking at the carpets today. They need a good vacuum and maybe a little steam cleaning. At least I figured out a way to do it. I’m not sure if my body will hold out for another hard day of cleaning.
In the middle of all this, when I usually take the dog for a walk, the rain came down hard and heavy. It’s what happens in our winter. This morning the sun is shining and the temperature is a balmy 52 degrees Fahrenheit.
I went anyway, pushing my black dog buggy. Foxy, my black chihuahua-terrier mix, loves to go outside, but she doesn’t enjoy getting wet. She definitely doesn’t have any Labrador genes in there. We were a sight. I was wrapped up with a black wool coat, black scarf, and a blue hat to keep the rain off of me. She was in a small carriage with a cover over her. She was quite happy there.
When we finally got back, everything had to dry on towels. The buggy was wet from top to bottom and the dog was dry. I now understand why wool is the cloth of choice in rainy places. The water had rolled off my coat. I only had to hang the coat up to dry with the hat and scarf. I changed my socks, but I came out mostly dry.
Once I had a few minutes to sit and hold the doggy in my overstuffed rocking chair, I had time to think of brain glitches and memories. Before I had chemo at 41 for Wegener’s Granulomatosis (also called GPA) the memories were sharp, clear, and emotionally laden. After the chemo, those memories that were clear became fuzzy and indistinct as if they happened to someone else. The emotional content was gone.
In some ways that was good because I have stories that would curl your hair.
Let’s just say that my mother shows the signs of the “narcissistic personality” even though she has not been diagnosed.
It took a couple of years after taking cytoxan (I took it for a year) before I began to feel anything but anxiety and fear. My late-hubby tried hard to make me feel safe. When I started to write again about four years after my diagnosis and treatment, I started to gain my emotions one step at a time. Cytoxan made it hard to remember from day to day.
Plus I have found that immuno-suppressants (it’s chemo… don’t let the doctor’s fool you) does the same thing. It fuzzes the memories and the softer emotions. Then add into it the “Mandela effect.” I was shocked when I saw that the “Berenstein bears” was Berenstain bears.
I have two theories about it– one is collapsing timelines and the other is dimensional travel. It sounds pretty woo-woo until you start reading about Quantum mechanics. I have wondered for a long time if we can unconsciously travel. This idea gets into “astral” travel and “remote viewing.” It feels like we are living in the age when science and the occult are starting to touch.
In the collapsing timeline theory, I think more people believe one thing than another so it collapses to the believers. In the Mandela story, I remember hearing a rumor that Mandela had died, but he was presented as living. So in my timeline and memories he didn’t die. Although with him being so far away from so many people, who knew unless a body was produced?
In the dimensional travel theory, I think consciously or unconsciously a few people will travel to their opposite number. I have a few memories that change abruptly or even people who changed abruptly. That change could be that I went from a self-centered child to a noticing child. My opportunities changed abruptly too. In this dimension I have had to finagle and push for every success. Nothing has come easy. I remember times when opportunities were easy.
I wonder if somewhere else I became a scientist who studied the brain. I wondered if somewhere I was singing opera. I wondered if I became an astronaut. By the way, I didn’t give up that dream until I went into the Navy and found that the Air Force supplied NASA with pilots. In my Mandela effect I was sure the Navy was the supplier.
All of those were dreams and ambitions I had as a young child. The one dream I am fulfilling is the dream of writing.
Sarah Hoyt wrote “Who are you really? What I mean is if you met yourself at seven, are you the same person?.” The rest of the blog is here.
I am not that same person. I think I would have listened to that child of six who was making her goals and planning her life and thought she was sweet and precocious. Would I believe that she would become an electronics tech in the US Navy, earn an English literature degree, be a writer? No. I would have been like the adults around me and said that she would change her mind when she met boys. She would probably get married and have a ton of children.
Maybe in another life, I did just that.
Now for a little promotion
Hero of Corsindor is now on Amazon kindle for pre-order.
In the kingdom of Corsindor, the prince is lost, the king is dead, and the queen is holding the reins of government against disloyal nobles. They want a puppet to consolidate their power over the land. The queen has only one ally, who is not human.
There are rumors that the borders have been closed. Plus the long-lost prince, who knows nothing of ruling, is returning. Corsindor is being attacked from within and without by nightstalkers.
Shira, a foundling, trained by the Ahrah, Corsindor’s neighbors, is sent find out the conditions in Corsindor. Warrior and child of another world – her job is to confront the demons and reduce the chaos in the world. Will she survive?
Will she be tempted to take it all?