Our winter has been relatively mild. It's snowed, sure, but it always melts away in short order. But then this morning it was bitter cold. And yet the sun was shining, so I anticipated it would warm up by the afternoon.
It did not.
When I left the office to get into my car and go home, the sun had been replaced with overcast skies and snow. Not tons of snow, but enough that the wind blowing it around produced whiteout conditions. As if that weren't bad enough, the snow had been fused to my car window by the cold, making it really difficult to scrape off.
But that's not all! Not only could I barely see, but my car didn't want to start and it was running weird. Even the turn signals sounded slow and clunky.
When I finally managed to get home, I was incredibly thankful that I had a garage to pull into...
Since I couldn't scrape the car itself, I just brushed off the snow as best I could. I expect the remainder will melt since my garage is slightly above freezing.
Which beats trying to melt it off with a blowdryer in this -6° heatwave we're having.
UPDATE: But that's not all! I never heard my heat pump turn on. I was then informed that it won't turn on when it's so cold that there's no heat to extract from the air. The only option is for my HVAC system to engage the Auxilary Heat. Which is far more expensive to run, but I'm awfully glad I have it...
UPDATE UPDATE: But that's not all! It's Saturday morning and it's -14° out... but it feels like -23°... which is to say I'm hiding in my house all weekend...
Times like this I wish I had millions of dollars to spend winter in a warmer client.
I went to the office as planned. That part was okay.
Then I went to get my teeth cleaned, found out that the hygienist I've been going to for 20+ years had left, I had a serious tooth-related issue that needs to be dealt with, Albertsons didn't have any squirty cheese, Our Flag Means Death was cancelled, and then everything turned to shit.
After the week I had dealing with my chest cold, HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH?!?
The good news is that the streets were nicely plowed after the snow that got dumped on us fell, but of course there are people still driving as if they are on bare pavement when the roads haven't been sanded. Not far from my home somebody in the car in front of me did not give themselves enough time to stop and went blowing right past the stop sign onto a busy street. As I watched it all happen I was like "Go with God, there buddy!" because I thought for absolute sure that I would be witnessing an accident. But... miraculously... God must have been watching out for them (or they were very lucky), because no collision occurred.
Then I got to read this headline...
"Deplorable." Surrogacy is "deplorable."
I am saying this as a former Catholic... assholes dictating reproductive rights can seriously go fuck themselves. This guy has absolutely ZERO authority to be calling for a "universal ban" on surrogacy. For those who want children but cannot have them for whatever reason, surrogacy is an option. For women who carry other people's children for whatever reason, surrogacy is a right. It is categorically absurd for this asswipe WHO DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A UTERUS AND CAN'T* HAVE SEX TO BE DICTATING REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS TO ANYBODY (except for those Catholics who turn to his words for guidance, I guess).
But UNIVERSAL BAN? Yeah, fuck ALL the way off with that bullshit. You know what *I* deem deplorable? The Catholic Church not turning priests who sexually assault children over to the police. Clean up your own fucking house before you dictate how other people live in theirs.
Jesus.
Old white men constantly dictating what women can and cannot do with their bodies is the height of asshole arrogance. Especially this crusty old fuck...
Photo of Pope Whatever taken by AP Photo/Andrew Medichini
Maybe one day religious leaders won't be drenched in hipocrisy, but I'm not counting on it.
Last Thursday my persistent post-nasal drip that's brought on by a never-ending array of allergies went into overdrive. It felt like I was drowning. I had trouble breathing. My inhaler was helping to make it so my breathing wasn't so difficult, but I decided to stay home and work so I wouldn't be a disruption at the office.
Friday was far, far worse. When I woke up I was coughing constantly and eventually it got to the point where everything in my chest was aching. My lungs would alternate between feeling like they were on fire... to feeling like they were itching on the inside. But my inhaler was still helping so I tested twice for COVID, took all the cough medicine I could find, grabbed some cough drops, and went to work. It wasn't bad... at first. But by the end of the day I felt dead.
Then the weekend came, my inhaler stopped working which meant I wasn't breathing well and my lungs felt tired. I thought maybe RSV was in play, but after going through tele-health I found that was very unlikely. I still tested negative for COVID, so I chalked it up to a chest cold and tried to power through.
Then, miracle of miracles, my inhaler started working again.
I worked at home again because I didn't feel like overdosing on cough medicine and I had great humidity in my house, but today was mostly okay. I could breathe fairly easily most of the day, and this evening I was happy to find that I wasn't hoping I would stop breathing so it would all end.
Pretty sure I'm going into the office tomorrow.
Dang it.
On Wednesday I started developing a cough.
On Thursday I stayed at home to work because I didn't want to be a disruption at the office.
This morning I woke up (after coughing all night) and felt absolutely awful. My lungs itched... ON THE INSIDE! And since I can't exactly scratch the interior of my lungs and live to tell about it, all I wanted to do was sleep so I wouldn't be awake to feel it. But that wasn't an option. I was behind enough as it was, and needed to go into the office for a few important tasks. Despite having an itch I couldn't scratch, I loaded up on cough syrup, Mucinex, pain killers, and grabbed a bag of cough drops so I could get through one or two hours and return home to bed.
NINE HOURS LATER I headed home to die.
But I knew that if I went to sleep I would just wake up at midnight and ne a zombie for eight hours, so instead I tuned into The Brothers Sun on Netflix because A) It looks really good, and B) Michelle Yeoh is in it, and she never disappoints.
Here's a trailer for you...
You're welcome.
It's going to take a lot of willpower to not watch all eight episodes tonight.
It's that good.
Amazing how Michelle Yeoh can just disappear into a role. And it's fantastic how she seems to actively seek out characters who are different from what she's done previously. And then... she's got Star Trek: Section 31 plus the three Avatar sequels coming up.
Everything's coming up Yeoh. Luck us.
And now I need to take my fuzzy lungs to bed.
When I was a kid, there were these giant posters of line drawings that came with a pack of colored felt-tip pens which you use to color it. I ended up with a couple of them, but wasn't really a fan because it was more fun to draw my own pictures to color. The way I made it fun was to go crazy with it. I had a "space" poster where I remapped the colors. Everywhere I would normally color blue I would color green. Green was pink. Pink was yellow. And so on. This lead to a rather interesting conversation when I wrapped it around one of my school books. A teacher thought I might be colorblind because CLEARLY I had a problem. I assured them that it was just for fun, but it got sent to the administration anyway. This just lead to an even stranger conversation when I was told that if I'm not colorblind that I shouldn't be pretending that I'm colorblind.
Funny. Here I thought that I was just amusing myself.
As it turns out "amusing myself" always ended up with my getting into trouble.
The constraints of social conformity have always been a buzzkill to creative thinking, which is why I've never been any good at adhering to it. Dress this way. Act this way. Believe this way. Think this way. Because if you don't then there will be consequences.
To which I never hesitated to say "fuck you," because the world needs me more than I need to feel a part of it. Seriously could not care less if people want to exclude me from their clique-based emotional economy or call me names or talk about me behind my back. Sure there have been times that it stung a bit because the people doing it were people I thought cared about me, but ultimately it had zero bearing on my life. Probably because I was a part of internet culture very early on and could always find my tribe regardless of location, distance, or situation. There were always groups that liked the same kind of stuff, had a similar way of looking at the world, and had similar beliefs, so I was never really "alone," even while alone. And I've been lucky to find "my people" in Real Life too, so there's that.
But that was me as a young adult up until now.
I don't know that I was ever seriously bullied by my school peers as a child. Sure I was poked fun at sometimes... that was a given... but other than isolated incidents I can count on one hand, there was no relentless torture. If anything, more bullying came my way via some of my teachers than fellow students.
But it's a different world now.
Bullying, as a matter of course, is relentless and devastating in a way it never was when I was a kid. And it's not just high schoolers who face all new levels of torment thanks to the very internet which saved me from being alone... it's increasingly younger and younger kids. Kids who have no defense because there's increasing indifference towards their plight. Fellow kids run from them so they aren't targeted next. Teachers don't want to get involved because it could get them targeted by parents of bullies. And parents of bullies rarely seem to care (or, even worse, encourage it). Some kids exist in a never-ending nightmare from which they cannot escape. But we allow it because it's always "somebody else's kid."
Until it isn't.
Back on December 19th, my mother's birthday, I found the story of a 12-year-old kid who committed suicide because of relentless bullying. His name is Eli Ballance...
12 years old.
He wasn't even given a chance to find his people.
Undoubtedly he would have eventually found friends who valued him and to whom he could relate to... but he couldn't find a way to live long enough for it to happen.
His mother tried to keep him safe at school... a place, mind you, that kids are required to attend... but they refused to promise her anything. Not that I am putting the blame entirely on educators. Teachers have to put up with increasingly hostile workplaces where they struggle to keep their heads above water as they are vilified and persecuted for trying to do their jobs. But there has to be something that can be done. If parents won't take responsibility for their kid's bullying and teachers are in a place where it's nearly impossible for them to do it without risking their lives or jobs, then there has to be a third party looking out for kids that are at risk. Because this problem is not going away. It's not going to disappear.
I have no idea why Eli was bullied. Not that it matters. His mother said he was "smart, funny, and compassionate." And that's all that really should matter.
Eli's mom is now advocating for change and wears shirts with the words "Pick Kindness" on them as a way to keep other parents from having to go through what she is.
I wish her luck.
Not just for her own peace of mind, but for all the kids like the me of my childhood who would have a tough time surviving in the world today. We deserve a shot at growing up and find our way in the world. We deserve to be able to say fuck you and find happiness despite a world that needs us, but doesn't want to accept us as we are.
Back on December 12th I fell and hurt my knee and ankle. It healed up fairly quickly. I was pain-free after about a week. Then it was a little stiff, but I thought it would be fine in another week or two.
WRONG!
It has been getting progressively worse. Last week I noticed that on top of being stiff, it was aching a lot. Now there's outright pain when I move it sometimes. I mentioned it to a friend and he said "Yeah. You probably have arthritis in your knee and ankle now." And I was like "What? Arthritis?!? Isn't that for old people?" He looked puzzled for a second, smiled, then said "Welcome to your fifties. Might want to look into glucosamine."
Oh shit! I totally am an old person now!
It happened so quickly.
Seems like only yesterday I was young and carefree and traveling the world. Now I'm old, prefer to stay at home, and living with cats. Guess I should stop ignoring the weekly mail I've been getting from The Neptune Society (if you don't know what The Neptune Society is, you're in for a fucking treat, because it's wild... when my time comes, bury me at sea with Julia Child on the memorial reef, please!).
And speaking of being old and having arthritis now(!)...
I found out an interesting fact today.
I was drying off after my shower. It was painful to bend my knee, so instead I just bent over. Suddenly the lights went off. It took my old man brain a second to realize that the electricity didn't just cut out... I had backed my bare ass up against the touch-sensitive light switch next to the shower. So now I know. My ass is light-switch-height.
Even though my butt cheeks were freshly cleaned in the shower, I was still mortified thinking that my light switch was now an ass switch. So the first thing I did after drying off and putting on my underwear was to run for the Clorox cleaner so I could scrub down the wall, plate, and switch.
I wanted to do it before I forgot, because apparently my memory is going to be leaving me very soon now.
If it hasn't already.
Well, here it is. The entry where I recap all the things that happened in the year. Except... such a post only really made sense when I was actually doing lots of stuff (meaning prior to 2020). Not that nothing at all happened in 2023. Plenty of stuff happened. It's just that going through it all month-by-month doesn't really work when the notable stuff just isn't a massive list.
And so...
This was the 20th year of Blogography. Which means I've been blogging for 20 years. That's probably ten years longer than was relevant, but I'm nothing if not persistant.
This was also the 3rd year of Ted Lasso, my favorite television show of all time. They say it's the last year, but holy crap I hope not.
The greatest thing to happen all year? Grocery delivery is finally available in my area! As God is my witness, I will never step foot in the bedlam that is a grocery store again. Except when the delivery says that something I need is "OUT OF STOCK." Which, alas, is more often than I ever thought it would be.
The second greatest thing? The Dutch Bitch, one of my oldest blogging friends, visited me here in Redneckistan!
I had a lot of expenses this year, so I tried to save money wherever I could. The one exception was a seriously useless purchase of a Bad Monkey neon sign. It's pretty great...
I also bought new pair of SONOS Era 300 speakers, but those aren't totally useless. I get really awesome sound while watching movies now! And by "now" I meant nine months after I bought them because SONOS had to issue a fix so that Dolby Atmos would play on them without blowing up my SONOS Arc soundbar.
In the not-so-frivolous purchases department... I had to replace my hot water heater. Because of course I did. It was one of the few things that hasn't gone wrong with my house yet. And then I had to replace my HVAC system, because it turns out there were actually two things that hadn't gone wrong with my house yet.
This year was the first time since 2019 that I saw a live concert. And only the second time since 2019 that I saw a movie in a theater. Oddly enough, these were two activities I didn't miss as much as I thought I would. But it turns out I hate people, so being able to watch movies and concerts at home is the best.
I didn't catch COVID again this year. To my knowledge, I've never had it. Though I'm six-times-vaccinated, so it's possible I did contract it but being vaccinated made it so mild that I didn't notice. I am not doing incredibly risky stuff (except going to a concert and a movie) so maybe that helps too. I don't know.
I managed to finish my kitchen renovation after years of working on it. Still want to replace the floor, but that's something I'll likely never be able to afford. I also managed to get half of my yard renovated. In another couple years maybe I'll have the money to do the rest. But first I have to repair my upstairs shower (that was leaking).
Because I have time now that I'm at home all the time and don't travel 1/3 of the year, I ranked all the Pet Shop Boys songs. You're welcome.
Out of all the things I blogged about in 2023, I think the thing I most want to leave you with is this, which I ran across in August...
Hope you had a good 2023. And will have an even better 2024.
I'm trying to stay optimistic.
I love the concept of "retail therapy." Things are going wrong. You're feeling bad about it. So you buy yourself something nice to get through it.
After the day I had today, I thought I needed a little retail therapy. But because I wanted to try and be a responsible adult by not spending tons of money on stuff I don't need, I blew $2.99 on some Walker's Shortbread (sale priced from $5.99!) added my grocery delivery order for tomorrow.
It's the least I could do for myself, really.
For weeks I've been having a persistent cough due to even more persistent post-nasal drip that seems to pop up this time of year. It makes my lungs feel tired. And days like today have me contemplating how utterly horrifying my life would be if Albuterol didn't exist. I don't use my inhaler very often... but when I need it, it's a very nice thing to have indeed.
Turns out that being able to breathe is a luxury you don't fully appreciate until you can't do it.
And since breathing is what's going to keep me alive until my shortbread arrives tomorrow, I guess it's a good thing I believed in a little retail drug therapy when it came time to renew my prescription.
Personally, I don't celebrate Christmas. It's not my holiday. It hasn't been for many years. Since the early 90's, I think. But does it bother me when somebody wishes me a "Merry Christmas?" Of course it fucking doesn't. Why would it? All this faux outrage over not being able to say "Merry Christmas" is categorically absurd. Nobody cares. Celebrate your Christmas all you want. Nobody is trying to take it away from you. And yet here we are. I'm dealing with people "taking back Christmas" by aggressively wishing people a "Merry Christmas"... especially towards people like me who they know darn well don't celebrate it. No idea why. Especially since I am happy to join in on other people's celebrations of Christmas. Just like I'm happy to join in on anybody else's celebrations and traditions if they'll have me.
So... yeah. I am happy to acknowledge Christmas. It was my entire world when I was a kid. But as I grew up and realized that there were loads of other winter holidays that existed in the world outside of mine, I was happy to acknowledge those as well.
And so I say "Happy Holidays"... which is inclusive of whatever holiday YOU celebrate (including Christmas!)... along with MY holiday too. It's an all-encompassing saying that has been used for decades this time of year to be inclusive of everybody.
But just in case you're one of those people who refuses to acknowledge that other holidays exist, and Christmas is THE ONE TRUE HOLIDAY THAT SHOULD BE THE ONLY HOLIDAY TO EXIST FOR ALL OF DECEMBER! then I got you...
Hope your Christmas is merry, monkey, and bright... if that's your holiday of choice.
I've never had an easy time getting eight hours of sleep each night. But, then again, it's never been a huge problem for me. I'm always fully alert and active throughout the day. What changes, seemingly at random, is how early into the evening I run out of juice. And then I got an Apple Watch and finally understood why that is.
I learned fairly quickly that how much sleep I'm getting (or not gettings) isn't what's important. It's how much deep sleep that I'm getting. If I get nine hours of sleep... ten hours even... it doesn't mean anything if I get under three hours of deep sleep. I'll be a wreck the next morning, get through the day okay, then have zero energy for anything except vegging out on the couch all night. On the other hand if I get four hours of deep sleep, I will be fully rested and have a full day of energy even if that's all the sleep I get.
For the past six months I did an analysis of what I eat, how much I eat, and when I eat it. I also kept track of how much deep sleep I got. The results were interesting.
Turns out that, for me, there's a simple checklist that gets me the best possible deep sleep...
If I stick to that schedule I'm usually asleep between 10:30 and 11:00, and wake up between 5:30 and 6:00. This usually results in six-and-a-half to seven hours of sleep with four hours of deep sleep. And that's my happy place for being well-rested.
Last night, for example, I was in bed by 10:30. Turned the lights off at 11:00. Fell asleep at 11:33. Woke up at 5:46. This got me 6 hours and 13 minutes of sleep. But 4 hours and 21 minutes of that was deep sleep, so I was absolutely golden all day long.
All this time all I need to do was to not worry about whether or not I was getting 8 hours of sleep and shift my eating to earlier in the day. Simple.
And do you know what happens if I stay up late drinking or eat dinner too late or have too big of a meal or drink caffeine after 1:00? If I'm lucky I'll get three hours of deep sleep. But usually one or more of those factors will result in my getting less than three.
And there you have it.
Took me 30 years to get here, but at least I've finally arrived.
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