A Fine Whine

Rain—Van Gogh

Even though I’m making noticeable progress,  I’m feeling down. Possibly it’s the incessant rain or it’s the not getting outta the house business or, despite clear advances, being stuck in bed or my comfy chair has become too damn much lately.

Ya know, I’d just love to go to La Paloma for Taco Tuesday today. Though the joint’s now open for dine-in, it doesn’t feel safe—especially with the Delta COVID variant. Hint: shit still ain’t safe.

I’d like to go to the library—it reopens tomorrow but getting up the long entry way and the steps would wear me right the fuck out. PLUS, the stacks are tight together and wicked tall. Hunting through them would be overwhelming.

I’d LOVE to go for a walk down to the seawall or *GASP* on Nantasket Beach. Yeah, that  won’t happen anytime soon.

This blows.

Nope, the best I can do and this is big progress, is go to my MGH and MEEI for my appointments. Most of these have been repeatedly rescheduled for months now.

Even Coco’s bored with me now. Speaking of, I dreamed of cats last night. One was that my kitten did a break and exit. I thought I’d caught her but it was another, similar Tux. In another, I discovered a horribly underfed Tabby. I dashed off to get him a bowl of kibble but he was gone when I returned. Both dreams were on the heartbreaking side of the fence.

Really, I’ve got to get outta the house even if I’m in my wheelchair the whole time.

Either that or I need a few cuppycakes STAT!