Two a.m.? Check. On the couch? Check. Hacking cough? Check. Post nasal drip causing cough? Check. Cough medicine? My special, takes care of cough and all my immediate problems cough medicine?! Where the fuck is my COUGH MEDICINE?! The only good part about the scourges that like clockwork invade my aging body for the past two winters is the revelation of a special cough medicine that actually shuts down the hacking machine in my sinuses and chest and lets me sleep. It lasts for 12 hours, and I only have to take one little teaspoon of this liquid heaven. Really. Where the fuck is it? When I called my doctor last week, whining about the never ending goo in my head and chest, all she did was give me a prescription for antibiotics and said to call her in a week if I wasn’t feeling better. It’s almost been a week, I’m not feeling better and I can’t sleep. She’s getting a call Monday morning. Poor Beenie was whimpering about 20 minutes ago as I hacked in the bathroom upstairs, cursing silently my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror. Said my coughing was driving her crazy. It’s driving me crazy. And it is completely undeserved. I quit smoking in 1997, and have not touched a drop of alcohol for over a month. I am not doing self-destructive acts to induce this cursed curse from hell. Go to some other undeserving sucker, scourge. BE GONE! I loathe thee!
Have, once again, had not a moment of silence to write. My last post was trite. Yes, the holiday crap is gone for yet another year. Woo hoo, right? Well, frankly, this Christmas was different for us here at the old row house stead. We had, and continue to have a teenie Christmas tree. Never in my life did I guess that I would have one, much less leave it up beyond the new year’s arrival. But here it is. I can’t think of any reason to take it down. It still smells good, looks nice, and isn’t shedding too many needles. The girls and I will have to make its dismantling a group project, pack away the cardboard snack box ornaments I made and they painted. It is a little tree. Strange. Having two small and important new-ish people in the house makes the whole experience so different. Thanks to Mimi and Beenie for unwittingly healing my stagnant, old holiday wounds.
Yesterday definitely felt like the start of something. Nothing big. Just clean. Went to a good friend’s annual New Year open house in the afternoon. Was having a total freakout (a quiet, internal one) over the lack of babies. I remember being there two years ago and all there were was babies. The place was awash with babies. This year, I looked around to see only one baby and the rest of the children were HUGE. Including my own children. Just gigantic. And I’m unsure how it happened, but think feeding and nurturing the babies may have something to do with it. Next year they’ll all be driving up in their own cars, sneaking into the back yard to smoke pot and the parents will be complaining about how they miss how easy it was when they were little, how you at least knew where they were at night, how simple their needs were. I am overwhelmed by the intensity of being a parent. And this is just the beginning.
No time to paint. No time to write. Seems like my workload at my part-time job will be picking up in January. I look forward to focusing on this skill that I was certain I had forgotten in the last three years. And making some money. Since I have no vices anymore, maybe I can also make some early art time somehow and sneak out at ungodly hours of the morning to paint. I still want to, you know. I find no solace in a total acceptance of my current situation. I still want to do all kinds of creative things that have nothing to do with my home life. It’s all part of my rock and roll fantasy.