Caffeine fueled….something….

The computer informed sternly that it was going to restart no matter what. Some sort of update. I don’t even know what that means. There is no improvement, that I can tell. There never has been even though it “updates” on a regular and annoying basis.And just now, Norton made an announcement that backups haven’t happened recently and it was going to back everything up (thus slow everything down) unless I promised to wear ballet shoes for a week unless I stopped it. I thought “oh what the heck. Go ahead and back everything up. I’m so busy being tired I don’t even care anymore.

I felt crappy for 6 weeks, through September and half of October. Then, just like that…well ok, that implies some sort of miracle and really it was a visit to the doctor and getting on low dose hormones for The Change Of Life. Which I guess could be seen as some sort of miracle, to go from wanting nothing more than to lay on the couch and watch season after season of The Walking Dead and eating dry cereal from the box because I was too tired to put cheese on a cracker (I ate a lot of apples, though. They’re pretty easy to fix), to feeling all industrious and stuff. That was nice. So is looking in the big pantry and seeing lots of quart jars lined up and full of soups and sauces, for the inevitable times when the urge to lay on the couch returns.

couch dog

Also, the impending Holidays mean the house needs to look more like a Nice Place To Live and less like Where Stuff Goes To Die. Many mornings, during the 2 hours that the canner is doing it’s thing, have been spent emptying this and dusting that and clucking over the piles of shi…er…stuff belonging to the menfolks, who’s idea of The Right Place To Put Stuff is in the middle of the dining table or on the fireplace hearth. Because we will be (hopefully, now that energy seems to have returned, somewhat) having fires in the fireplace and eating meals at the dining table, those areas need to be cleared off, and in the good way, with shi…er…stuff put where it belongs on shelves and in boxes and other appropriate places.

I admire people who are able to always keep things where they belong. It is something I aspire to.  After a rigorous cleaning-up of (anywhere), I have all the best intentions of keeping it that way. If it’s a bedroom, I’ll stand in the doorway and smile, and make all sorts of resolutions to go in every morning and make the bed, tidy up and all, so that next time there won’t BE a next time, because the room will stay clean and tidy. Same with the utility room, all that. The Room Where Thing Go To Die The game room, with the Table Piled With Shi….er…Stuff pool table and comfortable chairs and gaming systems, all intended to be a nice place for young men to hang out, away from the family and our boring selves, but close enough to keep in check, has become that place where things get shoved in guest-coming emergencies. There is all sorts of unknown and unwanted crud in there. I can’t even tell you, except that I know there’s a twin bed (disassembled), and a whole PILE of flooring left over from the time-before-last that the floors were done. We really don’t need it anymore but haven’t gotten around to pitching it. Boxes and boxes of this and that. I have been threatening to back the trailer up to the doors and pitch every last bit of it, and start over from scratch, but the last time I did that there was serious marital discord and promises were made to never do that again. So I have to wait until Himself and I have mutual alignment of the planets and stuff. Once that is done, I will stand in the doorway and smile, maybe shoot a few games of pool with Himself, and let #4 explain the complexities of the assorted versions of Skyrim.

Now that I have energy.

This afternoon, poopedness hit, from canning stuff and clearing the utility room, which is ALWAYS more complex than it should be, as utility room mess tends to have more layers than a normal room. Because Himself had to go in to work today, he called on his way home (as he always does) and asked if I needed anything from town. “Chocolate.” I replied. I really did, too. Good chocolate. “what’s for lunch?” he asked. “Chocolate.” I replied.  “I’ll pick something up.” he said. So he got some chicken and some Taco Bell and a bag of Dove Darks and a chunk of this fancy European dark chocolate with whole hazelnuts in it. I don’t know how he knew this, but that was EXACTLY what I wanted. Dark chocolate with a solid crunch involved.

So I ate half of that crunchy stuff, with a “cup” of coffee. More like…I don’t know…2 cups. Not the prissy little 6 ounce Physician Approved cups neither. My coffee cup (since the Doctor said “one cup in the morning, one in the afternoon before 3) is Larger Than Normal. It holds 2 measured cups, the 8 ounce kind. That, combined with the dark chocolate, hasn’t relieved my fatigue much, but I am WIDE AWAKE.

Doctor Approved!

Doctor Approved!

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About rootietoot

I do what I can.
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5 Responses to Caffeine fueled….something….

  1. Judy says:

    I’m glad you got on the hormones–you will feel sooooo much better–physically AND, perhaps more importantly, emotionally! YAY for drugs!!!

  2. jerseechik says:

    Ballet shoes for a week sounds pretty nice- especially with warm socks.
    All that stuff in the game room is Somebody Poor’s Christmas. (You remember what that’s like!) You’ll really make their day when they find it at the thrift store!

    • rootietoot says:

      What can go to the thrift store will go there, and the flooring to The ReStore, because there is enough for a foyer or something small like that. There are, however, a LOT of broken things.

    • rootietoot says:

      With my weird feet and super high arches, ballet shoes for a week would be torture. However, I rmember wearing them when I was a sweet young thing, and loved them.

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