Put it on the Calendar

Dawn view from my comfy chair

It’s best, whenever possible, to schedule your panic and/or misery attacks. It just doesn’t do to have more than one at a time or, for that matter, more than one per day. It’s just too damn exhausting, at the very least.

Saturday before last, as you know, Hillel and were flying to Western PA in the middle of the Toxic Twat’s Temper Tantrum Shut Down (which the majority of the Republican/Fascist’s Party dutifully went along.with like good little Kamikaze pilots).  On top of that, this being winter and shit, the weather was nasty-stormy.

• Would the security lines be miles long? (no, we sailed through)
• Would we miss our flights? (one of them but that was due to weather)
• Would the traffic controllers be on the job despite that pesky NO pay business? Would planes go all airborne and shit. (yes)

I was feeling all panicky but the trip had to be tripped. I hadn’t seen Daddy since October. He’d had some big changes and wasn’t in great shape. My flight fuss was layered on top of deep concerns for Da:

• How’s his health? (in general, better)
• Is he settling into his new digs? (starting to)
• Is the new place safer/better? Is the staff actually skilled – are they more than just semi-glorified babysitters for olds? (yes and YES)
• And how’s the food? (//shrugs// Looks a lot healthier/more balanced)

I was full up on frazzle and didn’t need the shock, when I looked in the mirror, of that one week post surgery weepy vampire peeper. I hit up Google (finding that it might be no big) and made an executive decision to not worry about/deal with my bloody red (but NOT hurting OR vision impaired) eye until AFTER our visit.

I did. I’m fine (burst blood vessel from, possibly, sneezing too hard. Oh the joys of aging!) 

THEN, my brand new external hard drive, where I’d moved ALL of my work files, shit the bed – fried in a power outage. N.b., I’m not suffering from a dearth of panic potentialities but, did I panic? Did I freak the fuck out? An attack of hysteria was threatening, big and bold, to jump onto center stage but…no. I totally backburnered that shit. There's no room on the docket this week.

Possibly I’m beginning to achieve my lifelong goal of total Spockness? If true, that’d be awesome+!

And then there’s misery. The 27th, Sunday, would have been the 33rd anniversary for The Amazing Bob and me. That is, it would’ve been had he not succumbed to the assholian slings and arrows of outrageous health.

Panic and misery consume energy. I NEED that energy to continue my recovery from surgeries. I need it for work, feeding and cosseting the herd, caring for my near (and not so near) and dear loved ones and just fucking LIVING. As TAB used to gently, jokingly razz me I AIN”T GOT TIME TO BLEED!  Yup.

My wonderful friend Keith suggested that:

Maybe you just need to take a day (or two) and grieve. Nothing wrong with feeling sad about losing the most important person in your life.

So I did. I made time for my attack of unhappy humanity.

Coco and I spent a good part of the day reading (Libriomancer by Jim C. Hines and, OK, she was napping on my lap – not reading) before I got up off my ass and hit the gym. Keith also noted that I could grieve on the elliptical – two birds/one stone. Smart man!

My favorite line in Libriomancer so far?

He leaned closer, with that smile that could charm a rabid hippogriff.

‘the hell’s a hippogriff? A magical creature, duh. Half horse, half eagle.

Important takeaway – I CAN schedule my freakouts.