Songs to Women

This is where I am right now: I don’t even want to hear SONGS by men. That is the extent to which I don’t want to hear male views and opinions right now. When I am on my morning walks, I will give a song by a man a brief chance—but such songs pretty much always turn out to be:

• “girl don’t you understand i just want to have sex with u”

• “I am so amazing, I will be legend, in a thousand years they will still be celebrating me because I am the greatest, I laugh mockingly at everyone who said I wouldn’t make it”

 

I am not here for it, not right now and I think it’s possible NEVER AGAIN.

I am still using the playlist Spotify created from the song Sledgehammer by Fifth Harmony, and MOST of the songs are by women. And also, the songs/singers tend to be rather upbeat and confident, which I am enjoying right now. But I found I was bothered by the songs in which upbeat, confident women plead with presumably mediocre men to consider dating them / staying with them. Then I had a sudden smack of realization: most of these songs do not use pronouns and do not say “boy”/”man.” It is in fact STARTLINGLY HETERONORMATIVE to assume that these upbeat confident women would waste their time on men! THESE SONGS MIGHT BE WRITTEN TO WOMEN!

I recommend listening to songs this way; it really gives a whole new tilt to things. She is not begging some dick in a stupid hat to please please please put down his guitar and/or video game controller and/or “I’m just playing devil’s advocate here” debate and pay attention to her! No! She is instead wooing an interesting, layered, kind, worthwhile WOMAN. Perhaps one who is considering running for office!

3:30

I woke up to pee at 3:30, and then lay awake with agitating thoughts until I finally gave up at 5:30. I tried the whole “let the thoughts just wash over you while at least your body gets some rest” method, but I am not good at letting the thoughts wash over me. I keep grabbing them and wringing them until I’ve gotten out every last scrap of adrenaline; then I put them aside to let them plump back up so I can wring them afresh. I do a little better with the “write the thoughts down on a pad of paper by the side of the bed,” so now I have a nasty little list waiting for me to try to figure out my nighttime handwriting.

Some of my agitations were pretty dumb. I will give you some examples. A week or two ago, I ordered a bunch of Halloween candy from Target, remembering how the school supplies were available online/drive-up until suddenly they were in-store only, and wondering if the same thing might happen with the Halloween candy; and then yesterday Halloween candy went on 30% off. Without saying exactly how many pounds of Halloween candy I had purchased per person in our household in order to salvage what joy we could out of it, I will say I could have saved significant dollars, and I spent some time pointlessly doing the math again and again to make myself keep wincing. I also spent some time mentally composing emails to my high school boyfriend telling him all the ways in which he’s handling a particular situation with his grown daughter totally wrong, even though I already answered briefly and satisfyingly when he asked for advice and now I’m not doing any further answering, since “not having to hold his hand and walk him through situations he’s not smart enough to understand” is one of the best parts of not dating him. And then I spent some time reflecting how the Republican Party has become a party of lying cheating corrupted power weasels, but apparently there isn’t anything anyone can do about that now, nor apparently was there any way for anyone to prevent them from gerrymandering the hell out of the country so that they can’t be voted out even by a majority, and also now we can’t leave. And then I worried for awhile about how the high school sent an email asking us to submit school-photo-like photos of the twins for the yearbook, but they didn’t say when the deadline is, what the requirements are, or where to send them. Just a bunch of little things.

And now it’s DARK when I get up. I don’t like the weather where I live, it’s nearly always too hot or too cold, but one thing I am going to miss about the too-hot is that it was nice and LIGHT out. If I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep, generally the sky was ALREADY beginning to lighten, and by the time I gave up and got up it would be FULL SUNNY and I could go for an early walk if I wanted to. Now it is dark, and there is the pressing knowledge that it will be getting EVEN DARKER for the next FEW MONTHS, and will also be too cold. Well. At least this means we are getting into String Light Season.

I KNOW YOUR SECRET

Would you like to see something that is horrifying or hilarious or both? YOU KNOW I KNOW YOU WOULD:


(If you can’t see it for one reason or another, it’s a padded mailing envelope on which someone has written, in what appears to be childlike printing: “I saw the condoms. I know your secret.”)

This is a mailing envelope that contains, yes, condoms. Some things to know:

1. This envelope is addressed to me. I don’t remember ordering condoms by mail, and in fact I actively remember routinely buying them in a store and NOT ordering them by mail, so I suspect this is an envelope fished long ago from the recycling in order to delicately conceal the condoms I bought from the store.

2. This envelope was at the bottom of Paul’s socks-and-underwear drawer.

3. Paul got a vasectomy in 2011, as I know you know, so these condoms are in no way recent, and they have expiration dates compatible with that.

4. It has apparently been a long time since Paul did a tidying of his socks-and-underwear drawer.

5. We actually found this envelope in 2018 when we moved, but I forgot to mention it until finding it again today.

We have NO IDEA when the writing appeared, else we might be better able to narrow down who wrote it. My instinctive initial suspects are Rob and Henry (though I want to investigate this “starting the letter O from the bottom” clue, too). Rob is a bit of a black-and-white thinker, an idealist who doesn’t get along well with his dad and tends to think the worst; he would have been 12 in 2011, which is the last time there was need for condoms; I think if it had been written earlier than that, we would have seen it, though perhaps not. Henry is the prankster who once drew “scorch lines” over an electrical outlet with a Sharpie marker and then lay on the floor nearby with a fork in his hand pretending to be unconscious/dead. The main reason I didn’t freak out is that he had TOLD ME about this prank idea a week earlier, at which point I had told him seriously-and-no-kidding that he should never, ever do it and it would not be even slightly funny and it would truly scare and upset me, as well as making me very angry about Sharpie marker on the wall. He would have been 5 in 2011, but I think it’s more likely to have been written AFTER that; he was 11 in 2018 when we found it. It seems like an EARLY MIDDLE SCHOOL thing to do, but I’m just guessing.

But also: what secret did this child think they had discovered? Do we even want to turn our minds to it? Did the child think the secret was that their parents were having sex? That their parents were attempting to prevent pregnancy? Did the child have a faulty idea of what condoms were for? Did the child think that Paul was…having an affair, and that condoms were an indication of that, considering how many children we had at our house, indicating that WE apparently weren’t using them? But what would the child conclude about the fact that the envelope was addressed to me? And why was the child rummaging in Paul’s socks-and-underwear drawer to begin with? THE MIND BOGGLES.

Books: The Ancillary Trilogy

I haven’t tried to chart it yet, but I am finding it is common for me to have, say, three or four days in a row where I am thinking, “Er, this isn’t good” about my state of mind, and then if I wait it out, I feel okay again. I would say it’s happening roughly once a month, which makes it seem worth charting to see, but so far there doesn’t seem to be any correlation with any OTHER cycles, if you catch my drift and I know that you do. I am finding it’s best on those days to make myself walk if I can, and I usually can, because NOT walking makes it Quite Worse, even though walking doesn’t feel like it makes it any better. Also SOMEtimes it feels like it makes it worse to, say, scroll Twitter, and it’s better to leave my computer and go play Candy Crush; but OTHER times it feels like it’s the perfect time for a good wallow in despair, so I play that by ear.

I would like to recommend a trilogy my brother recommended to me. I don’t think of my brother and me as having overlapping book tastes, but after the success of the 1.5 books I’ve read of this trilogy so far, I will need to reconsider. The books are by Ann Leckie, and they’re Ancillary Justice (Target link, Amazon link), Ancillary Sword (Amazon link), and Ancillary Mercy (Target link, Amazon link).

(image from Amazon.com)

I caution you that these are science fiction. I don’t generally like science fiction, for various reasons—but after reading these books, or rather the first 1.5 of these books, I am wondering if what I don’t like is Science Fiction Written By Middle-Aged Men in the 1970s. Because these books are written by a middle-aged woman, and I am not seeing a LOT of the stuff I dislike in science fiction, such as how the narrator is always a tough, cool, ruggedly handsome man who can handle with style and coolness and ruggedness anything thrown at him, sort of like an Indiana Jones / James Bond hybrid, and the ladies all love him and the men either respect him or learn to, and if there are robots there are also SEX robots, and if there are aliens there is a lot of ALIEN SEX, and everything is trying so deeply and cringingly hard to be Masculinely Cool, and there is a lot of failing of the Bechdel test.

There are still science-fiction things I dislike, even in these—such as the names. I am just always going to dislike the names for characters and places. Paul, describing it, says it’s “doubling all the A’s, and putting apostrophes in the middle of words.” Yes. That. And I would add: “making everything unpronounceable just on principle.” And of course there is the unavoidable “As everyone knows, the Rlaa’aa invaded in 3072 and, as everyone further knows, this led to a system of etc.” Combined with NOT doing that, and just letting the reader figure out what’s going on, which I ALSO hate, which means there is no way for science fiction authors to win with me, which is why I generally don’t read science fiction. And I was not sure, for the first few chapters, if I was going to be able to hang in there. But I DID, and now I LOVE what I am reading, and after I am done with the trilogy I am going to find more books by Ann Leckie and read those too.

I feel like what I’m reading in these books is what is MISSING in most science fiction I’ve read, and that’s EMPATHY and EMOTION and RELATIONSHIPS and DEPTH and SUBTLETY and GROWTH and CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. It’s not just “What cool action scenes am I imagining playing out in the movie of this book, and what would the hot babes look like” (though there ARE cool action scenes and hot babes), it’s also “How does the character feel about this, what meaning does this have for them, what are their inner struggles, what surprising gradual ideas are forming,” etc.

I haven’t read enough science fiction to know how to explain what type of science fiction this is, overall, but I will say some of the things that SEEM like science fiction types. It is SPACE science fiction, and there is talk of life on space ships; and there are SOME aliens but not a LOT of aliens so far: there are some references to past encounters with aliens, and a brief description of one kind of alien, but not MUCH alien stuff. It is much more AI science fiction, and in fact the narrator is an AI. It is the kind of science fiction where human bodies are put into suspended animation (well, or some kind of storage, I don’t know if that’s the right term), to be used later by AIs, but the AIs have not taken over or anything…well, or I should say It’s Complicated. But it’s not (SO FAR) a series about Oh No The AIs Have Taken Over, Making Humans Their Slaves!! It’s more like how do AIs perceive the world, what are the complications that arise from having/using AIs, how do people treat AIs and how SHOULD they treat them. There is some war, and overtaking of planets, though that’s all in the past so we are hearing memories rather than reading about it as it happens; there is a fair amount of SPACE POLITICS, and talk of incorporating different cultures and how that turned out.

And there is the thing that made me want to try it even as I rolled my eyes a little, which is that the narrator’s language/culture doesn’t have words for different sexes/genders, so everyone is called she/her no matter what, and all parents are mothers and all children are daughters, and so on. It should be silly, but I found myself quite MOVED by it after awhile. What must it be like, to grow up with your sex considered the neutral default? WHAT INDEED. And it is surprising and interesting to be reading a book and often not know if the characters are male or female.

Anyway! I’m really enjoying it so far, and I recommend it. I also recommend it as a gift idea for someone else, if you have a science-fiction reader in your life: if my brother and I BOTH love the same books, that should cover pretty much anyone you know, unless they’ve already read them.

Song / Walks / Walk Songs

I woke up this morning with a song in my heart, and that song was, relentlessly: “MARY MAC’S MOTHER’S MAKING MARY MAC MARRY ME / MY MOTHER’S MAKING ME MARRY MARY MAC!!!” (If your heart does not already know this song, you can hear it here.)

Then, on my walk, I invented long sleeves and gloves. Normally I wear French terry joggers (sounds nicer than SWEATPANTS) and a t-shirt, but this morning it was chilly so I put on a zip-up fleece layer, the kind with holes in the wrists for your thumbs, so you get partial hand-coverage. Pretty soon I was thinking, “I like how my arms are less chilly, and I like that I can tuck my fingers into the long cuffs and keep them warm—but I don’t need an extra layer on my back, and it’s making me too hot. What I really want is just the sleeves and long cuffs, but I want the cuffs even longer so they cover my fingers too.”

Music on the walks is always an issue. I basically want to listen to the radio (i.e., not have to do the work of choosing my own songs, and have the fun of surprise/variety), but with no lengthy ad/DJ breaks that would make me switch stations if I were in the car, and I want the songs to be ones I would have chosen. What I’ve been doing is listening to Spotify, because it will play one short ad and then let me listen without ads for 30 minutes; and because if I give it a song to start with, it will play Suggested Songs based on that song, which is fun. Sometimes they’re all misses, and I have to pick a different song: I started with Mine by Phoebe Ryan, which I love and which I find good for walking, but then all the Suggested Songs were sad/heartbreak/slow, which is no good for walking. I had better luck with Sledgehammer by Fifth Harmony, which has given me mostly upbeat / girl-power / girl-anthem / best-friend songs for the last two days. If you do this same thing with Spotify, I would love to know what song you start with.

NO ONE EVER TALKS TO ME (That Is Overstating It, But It’s Symmetrical)

When I wrote yesterday about everyone constantly talking to me, I was overstating the situation—not only because people aren’t literally constantly talking to me, but also because it isn’t everyone: I hear from Rob and William so little, it’s possible to occasionally forget they’re living here, as I sort of did when I was writing yesterday’s post.

I find this distressing. I would probably be more distressed if they were constantly hanging around near me and talking to me about everything, since they are supposed to be semi-independent college students at this point—but just as it is possible to be too hot at one temperature and too cold at another, and just as it is possible to be overly hungry before eating and overly full afterward, it is possible to worry about too much interaction and also about too little.

Well, they have each other, and I do like that. They could be talking to each other a LOT, as college roommates might. They could be managing their lives exactly right: simulating as much as possible the living-away-from-home experience they’d be having if there weren’t a pandemic. Managing their own meals, managing their own schedules, NOT being constantly in contact with parents/siblings. But sometimes they seem to actively avoid us, to the point where it does hurt my feelings. William in particular seems annoyed whenever we approach him to ask him something—and it isn’t as if we approach him many times a day, it’s like once or twice a day, to ask things he seems to WANT to be asked, such as does he want me to make him some dinner when I make dinner for everyone else (usually no, but sometimes yes). And they don’t have the REPLACEMENT things they’d have if they didn’t have us: the roommates, the friends, the classmates, the professors, the other people at the dining hall tables, etc. So I do worry. (But at least they are not two more people constantly talking to me.)

NO ONE EVER STOPS TALKING

The kids are all back to their various remote-learning options, but after each class they will come talk to me about it—something that on one hand I treasure, but on the other hand has gone well past the treasuring point. One single class = 20 minutes of frenetic play-by-play: what the teacher said; what fellow classmates said; what misunderstandings occurred; why they don’t know what assignments are due or when; how confusing the website is; how frustrating the online meeting glitches were; how frustrating it was not to be able to be unmuted, because Dad had a meeting at the same time, and how the child was apparently unable to figure out any way to communicate that fact to the teacher, and how the child and Paul were apparently unable to figure out ahead of time that this would be the case and make other arrangements. Then Paul comes downstairs on one of his twenty daily work-breaks to go talk to his wife about what’s frustrating HIM, how HIS online meeting platform is glitching, how HIS co-workers are being dumb, and to ask whether the mail is here yet. AAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE

I can’t write without being interrupted. As soon as one person stops talking to me, the next person starts; as soon as the kids are tucked back in with fresh classes, I hear Paul’s footsteps. Or else I have to leave the room because someone has a meeting. Now that meeting is over, and someone else’s meeting starts in ten minutes, so I have ten minutes to do what I want in that room, but there are two people both trying to talk to me. Or else they’re standing behind me so they can potentially see me writing about them. Even if people aren’t talking to me, they’re talking to each other in the same room as me. And if they run out of things to tell me about work/school, they start trying to make me look at the cats, or they will read Reddit posts aloud, or they will QUOTE MEMES FROM MEMORY, IN RANDOM BATCHES. OH GOD, LEAVE ME ALONE

I have had to literally interrupt, saying “Pause!” cheerfully while pressing an imaginary pause button, so that I can GO TO THE BATHROOM, or so that I can continue through the door I was about to go through to get an ingredient for dinner / take something out to the mailbox / put something into the washing machine / put something on the shopping list / plug in my phone, as I was on my way to do when someone started talking to me. I have had to jot down on a notepad what I was about to do when interrupted, so that I can stop frantically trying to remember it while someone is talking to me.

Paul will seriously come stand next to where I am busily working at my computer and say, aloud, “Now, what was it I was down here for? Hm. Hm hm. Was it something with the…no. Or maybe…no. Let’s see, where did I put my phone? Oh, urg, did I remember to email Jeff about that thing?” I have started responding by thinking aloud, too, to let him see how delightful it is; if necessary I will start taking field trips to do it while standing next to him at his work computer. He will come downstairs to make his lunch, and every 20 seconds as he is making it, he will call out some unanswerable little thing to me (“Huh, this bag of chips isn’t as broken as usual!”), and want me to reply (“Huh!”). Then just enough silence for me to go back to what I was doing, and then another remark (“Not as many cars out there today!”) (Me, making a gigantic effort:”Huh! Wonder why!”). And his phone is set for LOUD notifications, so it goes “BING BING!!” several times per minute the whole time he is in my midst.

I will sit down with my lunch, and I will pick up my book and feel all contented, and someone will come in and really SETTLE IN to start talking to me.

Obviously we need some new systems to deal with this new situation, and I know we will develop them. This won’t just go on and on like this. But for RIGHT NOW I am running out of ways to say “Huh!” and “That sounds frustrating!” I am also COMPLETELY OUT OF EAR AVAILABILITY

Curbside Thwarted; Grocery Shopping; Snack Dinner

In our area, the only curbside pick-up option I’ve found for groceries is Wa1mart. My philosophical/moral/ethical objections to Wa1mart are not higher than all other considerations: I will buy a few things there that I can’t find anywhere else. And at some point the risk/reward ratio would reach a point that it would be worth it to shop there for groceries, but we are not there yet.

About a week ago I heard an ad on the radio that a grocery store chain in our area was going to offer curbside. It’s not a store I usually shop at: the nearest location is 20 minutes in an inconvenient direction, and it’s a noticeably smaller store than my usual, and it’s somewhat more expensive, so there’s no advantage. But I’ve been there a few times In The Beforetimes when I was looking for something hard to find, or when I happened to be on my way home along that road and just needed one or two things, so it’s not a completely unfamiliar store, which means it’s not new/scary. I got all invested in their website: made an account, added a couple hundred items to my Shopping List so I could choose from that list later—and then it turned out the store nearest to me didn’t offer curbside, even though at the start of this whole thing I had chosen it from the site menu that popped up when I clicked “Try Curbside!” Well. Perhaps they will have it later on. Or perhaps I will decide to drive to the one that is 35 minutes away.

Anyway, for today I had to go back into a store, and so I did. I did a two-cart trip, so we are all set for awhile in case there is a big back-to-school outbreak, or in case we want to pause while we wait to see if there is. There was nothing particularly interesting to report, but I will report it anyway. There were more varieties of chicken nuggets/tenders: still not up to the usual selection, but they had more than just the kid ones, including the ones I haven’t seen for ages like boneless buffalo bites. Plenty of toilet paper, but almost out of paper towels: employees were filling the paper towel shelves with toilet paper. They had some yeast in jars! Not a ton, and not the kind for bread machines, but a nice little row of jars of the regular active kind. Plenty of flour, of a nice number of brands/types, though not entirely back to normal. Still no antibacterial wipes or spritzy antibacterial cleaners, and only unfamiliar brands/shapes of hand sanitizer, including an “all-natural” one I looked at askance. They had more flavored seltzers again: for awhile they’d had only the more expensive brands.

 

I have rediscovered the joy of Snack Dinners. I used to do those all the time when the kids were much littler, but for some reason had stopped making them. They can end up remarkably time-consuming, but in a way I find fun. And I find it especially worth it now that I’m eating differently from everyone else again, because with Snack Dinner there can be overlap: if I make deviled eggs and coleslaw and little rolls of deli meat for my own plate, I can ALSO put those on other people’s plates (extra egg-half and no deli meat for the vegetarians). And it’s a good way to use up some of the unpopular granola bars (I cut them in as many pieces as I have kid plates), and the last of a kind of chips/crackers/pretzels that nobody seems to eating, and fruit everyone has rejected because of one small bruise. Or, if I have one potato left in the bag and it’s bothering me, I can pan-fry it and divide it up. Oh, and I have to credit Paul with thinking of the idea of popping a bag of the microwave kettle corn I bought and didn’t like very much, and using that as another Snack Dinner side dish. (Henry can’t have it, because he has braces.)

Also! Also! A long time ago, back in the spring, someone mentioned that their store was totally out of the purple box of Annie’s mac and cheese, and that that was the only kind their kids liked, and then a lot of other people chimed in, agreeing that (1) it was the best one and (2) it was hard to find. Well! We had never tried it, but I immediately want whatever everyone else likes and particularly if it is not available, and so the next time I saw it in the store I bought a box. And then it just sat there on the shelf waiting for me to remember to make it, until I realized I could make it for snack dinner! Normally the two older boys make their own dinner these days, but they’re still interested in being handed 1/5th batch of an interesting new macaroni and cheese to sample. So now I’m doing this with a bunch of other packaged noodle/rice items that look interesting to try.

Well, and also ANYTHING I want them to try. Like, I don’t want to make every single person a fluffernutter sandwich (a coveted treasure of my childhood, though not of Paul’s) and have everyone too grossed out to eat, and have all that food wasted. But I can make ONE-HALF fluffernutter sandwich, and give everyone a little piece! Or, maybe none of the kids are trying the new jam flavor because they don’t want to commit to a whole sandwich of it, but I can make a half sandwich and give them each a little piece; or I can make a slice of butter-and-jam toast and give them each one toast-finger. Or, maybe I buy a can of soup that looks interesting, and no one wants the whole can but everyone is willing to try a little snack-bowl of it. And so on! I find it quite fun. I think that’s what I’ll do for dinner tonight.

I wish there were not so much SOAP in this picture.
I am not feeding my children soap.

Esophageal Spasm, Probably

I had a little medical thing happen yesterday. Probably at some point I mentioned that the reason I ended up diagnosed with GERD/reflux, despite never noticing anything like heartburn except when I was pregnant, was that on several occasions I had taken a perfectly normal bite of food and it had not gone down right: I could breathe, but the food felt stuck for a couple of minutes. Which makes it sound like the kind of thing where you just need to take sip or water or something, and downplays how extremely painful it is, combined with a feeling of needing to burp and/or throw up, combined with the urgent feeling of The Body Is Having An Emergency Right Now, combined with any sip of water either refusing to go down or else increasing the pain. Really, very uncomfortable, do not recommend. Anyway, I got on a daily medication for GERD/reflux (omeprazole, if you are curious) and the swallowing thing stopped happening, and the medication also stopped my incessant light dry cough that I’d thought was a sign of my family’s pervasive asthma/allergy issues but turned out to be unnoticed heartburn also.

ANYWAY. Yesterday morning I had one of those painful “food is stuck” things, but I hadn’t had anything to eat yet, just coffee (but: acidic; also: hot, which apparently can sometimes trigger such things); and also, instead of for a couple of terrible minutes, it went on for over an hour at a “Do I need to go to the ER?” level of pain/weirdness, and then it was at a milder level for an hour or so after that, and then for the rest of the day it wasn’t happening anymore but my esophagus felt sprained, and there was discomfort every time I swallowed (new awareness: how often I swallow). I could theoretically eat and drink, but it was much too unpleasant to do it. I did try two doses of baking-soda-in-water early on in the process (thinking it might be a big acidic overreaction to the coffee), to no effect.

From online research, it seems to have been an esophageal spasm. It looks like generally it’s not dangerous, but it’s very uncomfortable, and not very treatable. Or rather: there are a lot of articles online with, like, the same three things doctors can try (including, inevitably, have the patients lose weight! and eat bland soft food! and avoid foods that seem to make it happen more often! yay medical science!!), plus a couple of medications and procedures, but then hundreds of message boards saying NOTHING WORKED AND I CAN’T LIVE LIKE THIS. I am going to try not to assume this will be my life, since apparently a person can also have one esophageal spasm and then no more.

The likelihood of having them is thought to be increased by stress and anxiety, isn’t that funny? Ha ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

One thing I have learned about myself is that I will eventually take a child to the ER, because I can take being thought of as an over-fretful mother, and I can’t take wondering how I’d feel if I should have brought them but didn’t—but I will apparently never take myself to the ER unless I have broken a bone (well, not if it’s a toe bone, but anything larger), have internally acquired a bullet, or have lost, at minimum, a finger or toe. Not only can’t I believe something is Actually Happening, I can’t handle the way the medical staff make you feel bad if you’re right (“Why didn’t you come sooner??”) or bad if you’re wrong (“Yeah, next time this happens? Try having a couple of Tums and a glass of water, mmkay?”) (not to mention the way if you show up with any complaint of pain they treat you as if you’re lying to get pain medication). I will gently die first. Apparently. My hope is that if something happens to me that is life-threatening and also treatable, that I will briskly lose consciousness and someone else will be there to make the ER decision on my behalf.

I WILL, it seems, after half an hour or so of chest pains on the level of labor pains, casually and with reluctance (and only after he’s told me all about the project he’s working on) notify my husband that something medical is happening that is probably not a heart attack because it is not on the left side and not involved with my arms; and that the only way in which it is “spreading to my jaw” is that I have the barfy/tingly feeling I always have with this swallowing problem; and that I am not dizzy or short of breath or sweating; and that really it feels more like my THROAT than my HEART; and also because it’s been going on for awhile and nothing further, such as passing out / perishing, has occurred; and that the MAIN reason I’m concerned is that (1) it’s been going on so long and (2) it’s so painful and (3) I HADN’T TAKEN A BITE OF ANYTHING. (And also secret concern 4: I am picturing the ER nurse saying “And you had intense, regular chest pains? And you didn’t come to the ER…why, again?”) (And then, later on: “So, next time this happens, try an antacid mmkay? Maybe lie down, put your feet up, have a little water.”)

And in a pandemic, it’s so much more fraught. In normal times, I would at least be calling my primary doctor today to see if she wanted to take any action, or maybe want to send me back to the doctor I saw for my endoscopy. But as it is, I’m hand-wringing. I don’t want to start messing around with various medical buildings and medical staff if this was a one-time thing. It wouldn’t just be “Oh, okay, come on in and we’ll have a quick check”; it would be first to the primary doctor, then to the lab, then to a specialist, then back to the specialist for a scheduled test/procedure, etc. That is a LOT of exposure. And my endoscopy was less than a year ago, so I’m not super-worried that there’s something new in there; more like thinking this is typical of the kind of issues the doctor who did the endoscopy said people in my situation might have. (He also mentioned my STOMACH MIGHT TWIST AROUND, TYING ITSELF OFF FROM THE ESOPHAGUS.)

I Know It’s Only September But Time Is Weird Now

A boy I was briefly involved with in high school sent me a message at 1:30 this morning saying he misses me, with a little heart emoji, so I have reached that pandemic milestone.

I was talking to Paul about how I was actually feeling kind of excited about Christmas. I know it’s early for that. The reason it’s noteable is that this is going to be our first Christmas not going to my parents’ house, and I thought that might Ruin Christmas, but we’ve come up with some alternate plans that sound fun to me: my family always celebrates on Christmas Eve night, and Paul’s family always celebrated on Christmas Day afternoon, so we’re going to take this opportunity to do a Classic Christmas Morning celebration, and I’m actually looking forward to it. Pajamas! Coffee! A hearty proteiny make-ahead breakfast casserole, perhaps, to be eaten after having too much early-morning chocolate?? I may need to ask for advice/instructions, and that will be fun too! Also, I was thinking this might be a big year for Christmas cards, which I would enjoy; and maybe a big year for mailing happy holiday boxes and leaving cookie plates hanging from doorknobs and so forth. It could be pretty neat!

Paul seemed less than enthusiastic about my enthusiasm, which puzzled me, until he said “I think your feelings about Christmas are going to be very dependent on the results of the election and what happens afterward,” and I realized he is right, though perhaps we all would have been happier if he’d kept his rightness to himself awhile longer. I am wondering if it might be wise to do some shopping ahead of time. It might be a way to deal with this terrible restless time before the election. And I am remembering that after the 2016 election, I couldn’t decorate the tree. On the other hand, that ended up being okay and even Better Than Okay: I told the children we were going to decorate it with handmade ornaments only, and they were old enough to get started on that themselves while I languished miserably on a recliner, and that ended up being a very satisfying idea. So perhaps we can count on our coping mechanisms to carry us through.