Days alive: 12,170
Crochet projects worked on: 1
Car washes gone through: 1
Shadow headache/secondary migraine: 1
Lotto tickets bought: 0 because I forgot, but my Darling Wife bought one.
Days until NaNoWriMo: 8 days and counting!
I woke up at four am again, got up at five thirty to take a shower before my appointment at one pm today. I hate difficult appointments, but this one went better than I thought it may have. Still didn’t get enough sleep.
Since I didn’t actually finish with the appointment and pick up my medications from the pharmacy until after 3:30 and was more than 40 minutes from work, I ended up not being able to get back to work afterwards.
Had to stop and anxiety throw up at two different gas stations. Nearly just pulled off the road at one point. Not fun.
What was fun was taking my poor green with pollen car, named Helena, through the car wash.
I used to call the fringed roller mop things “smacky spinners” or something likewise ridiculous. Even being a grown ass adult in the front seat, I love going through a good car wash.
I still have to vacuum out the car itself, and clean out the trunk for Helena to be clean-clean. By the by, contrastive focus reduplication is one of my favorite quirks of language.
Anyway, this shadow headache is clinging with both claws, worsened by the vomiting, and I want it to go away already.
The cats were clingy when I got home, after I got done puking some more. And then my Darling Wife and I exercised our civic rights and voted early.
So that was “fun”, once we got past the creepy people standing in the middle of the parking lot attempting to accost and influence people who were going to vote.
Dinner ended in mild indigestion as differing opinions in basic human decency, immigration, and the suffering induced by the capitalist regime and it’s so called American Dream made things awkward. As did my opinionated nature on the fact that most “Americans” are illegitimate bastards of this land, whose family lines are largely populated by thieves and murderers. We live on stolen land, paid for in blood and broken promises, then have the gall to bitch about those that would try and come here for a better life.
It brings to mind the famous words of Emma Lazarus, known as the sonnet New Colossus, in the pedestal of the 151 foot tall woman who will be spending her 132nd year guarding New York Harbor on the 28th of this month.
Yes, I mean Lady Liberty.
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
I will ever have opinions on homelessness, immigration, and basic human rights. Always.
In any case! The cats are helping me crochet more of Steph’s blanket tonight.
Oh well. Cuddling kittens is almost as productive as crocheting, right?