Destruction & Denial.
Playing around and engaging in meaningless rhetoric isn’t on my agenda today. There’s no point in it. Los Angeles is on fire, whipped up by record-setting winds. The rest of the country is freezing. We still have just as much snow on the ground as we did on Monday. Residential roads still have not been plowed because DPW crews are still having to address dangerous conditions on main roads. There’s no reason to engage in nonsense or frivolity.
I’m keeping the kids home today. I obviously can’t drive them in and it’s too damn cold for them to be standing out in the snow waiting on a city bus. They both have their school laptops. We’ll treat it like an e-learning day. They were both soaking wet and covered in snow after walking home from the bus stop yesterday. There’s no need to repeat that.
In fact, there’s a lot that doesn’t bear repeating. As we return to the ridiculous rantings of a President who fails to engage his brain before speaking (causing many to wonder if he has one at all), the most effective response is no response. One doesn’t take seriously the rantings of a madman. Don’t give his words oxygen. He doesn’t have a fraction of the authority he thinks he has. His rhetoric is meant to cause chaos. Don’t give in.
Disengage. Don’t spread political memes. Don’t share the articles. Don’t participate in the chaos. Focus on you and your family.
I am not well. I have scratches and bruises I can’t explain. Kat says I’m getting up numerous times during the night and I have no memory of doing so. My walking grows increasingly unstable. We have food, but I’m unable to work in the kitchen to cook it. My head spins as this headache continues into its ninth week.
There is no help coming. I called the insurance company yesterday. I’m number 6, 726 on the list for consideration for a Medicaid waiver that could get me into an assisted living facility. The insurance rep was not encouraging, saying that they’re anticipating rule changes at the very least before they can get even a quarter of the way through the list.
I’m on my own. The quiet of the kids being gone yesterday removed any sense of structure to my day. Did I eat anything? The near-empty bag of popcorn on my desk tells me that I did, but I have no memory of fixing it. Did I take my meds? My pill bottles were in a different position this morning, so I assume that I did.
The temperature outside has dropped seven degrees since I started typing an hour ago. I suppose someone might send us pizza or cheeseburgers, but I’m not holding my breath.
I exist, but I am nothing but a shell.
A shell that drinks coffee.