My weekdays are pre-determined by my job and by my more “limited” free time. My weekdays are defined, and structured, by my routine. I would not be able to function during the week (as effectively) if I did not have a routine. (Even as I write and edit this blog, I am wondering if I shouldn’t be using my time more effectively…but…)
But as soon as Friday 5 p.m. arrives, my options are wide open and I have decisions to make. That’s where I get into “trouble.” That’s when I make the conscious decision whether or not to go “off my meds.”
Friday night (4/25/14) : Did anyone watch the premier episode of “Black Box?” The main character (I don’t remember her name) is a brain doctor (neurosurgeon?) who can’t control her own brain, at least not without her meds. She is bi-polar, and I found myself relating to her in many ways, more ways than I care to admit. She makes the conscious decision to go off her meds, periodically, so that she can experience the extreme high of her manic state…so that she can feel alive, really alive: free, uninhibited, and somewhat indestructible. Regardless of the consequences.
I get the same feeling after a couple of glasses of wine. Fortunately, for me, the consequences are much less dangerous than hers. And I limit it to my weekends, when I have much more control over the results.
Friday evening (6:00 p.m.): 2014 Inaugural Porch Nesting
Seasonal-based living-space expansion project: (Warmer weather means that I gain bedroom #2, and the laundry room, and the front porch, and the barn, not to mention the yard). There are many other hang-out options, but, who will I hang out with?
- ( Re-) arranging/rehabilitating (after a storm) the recently relocated-to-porch houseplants (after “dumping” them on the porch just to get them out of the house so I can access my windows for cleaning/painting/remodeling, and easier opening and closing).
- Setting up outdoor seating (for me and any potential visitors). (From outer space? Whom, exactly do I expect to visit? Hmmm…is there a pattern here? Yes, there is. Is the pattern in need of change? Possibly. How would one go about changing that pattern? One would need to decide that the pattern needs changing. Does it? That, it would appear, is the BIG question.)
Setting up music is a project…will I feel the same way 15 minutes from now? Do I even have a device capable of producing music? (There are many possiblities; I don’t know if a single one of them will work…)
Transistor radio to the rescue. (Yes, I have one and it works. Recycling at its best! BTW, the Ipod failed the test!)
Porch Dancing (in evening-light [as opposed to day-light])
A song plays…(I can’t even remember who…Tom Petty…Elton John…maybe even Maroon Five… I‘m not very current)…I need to dance…!
I CAN’T NOT dance. (See the show “Black Box” for reference and relativity). I’m dancing with my notebook in hand as I write the outline/draft for my blog. My neighbors can see me, somewhat, thru the jungle of (recently relocated and re-arranged-for privacy) houseplants, and I’m certain they think I’m crazy…or maybe they’re just jealous of my un-inhibited-ness.
Darkness approaches, against my strict instructions that it stay light until I say otherwise. After dark, I will have to physically remove my porch light bulb, OR choose to dance under a spotlight. (There’s an electrical “situation”…a long story for another time) OR I can dance in the dark, if I want to dance under the cloak of darkness, and risk injury, OR if I want privacy, if I want to be proper, I will need to go into the house, which signals the end of the day. OR… I will need to find the stepstool (where might that be?) and a screwdriver (ditto), and remove the light hous(ing).
What’s that you say? A lighthouse? Omg, I want to go on a lighthouse vacation. Right now! In my travel trailer. Which is parked in my backyard (another story). All I need is a Ford F150. (Escorty-no-pull-y.)
Omg, Stevie Nicks, now. I did her for a couple years. (I mean that I impersonated her. Elton John, too, you know. Big, pink glasses and all…don’t you wish you knew me then? In fact, I have photos from that period, which coincidentally was the same time that I joined a dating site [before the online scene], and I have [professional]) photos!])
Bugs (!): Tick (extracted from my belly [with needle nose pliers, couldn't find any tweezers], the first of many, no doubt) and ants (on the counter-top and in the pantry), and cockroaches, everywhere (except, fortunately, not on my body).
Personal stereo/I-pod speaker attempt
The music thing…(see above; I cannot come to grips with this…I want to play drums! Sing! Dance! Play the tambourine! Make a spectacle of myself. To me, it’s the equivalent of jumping out of an airplane - scary! but I don’t trust the parachute…But what is there to lose if I sing and dance and express myself?
I do have a TO-DO LIST written down somewhere…I’m just avoiding it for now, cuz this is more fun.
- Upcoming Dog Run for WWACA
- Baths (especially if I’m going to take them out in public [see previous])
- Get rid of (find homes for) the dogs…(bad thoughts, to where I choose not to go, for now)
Pot-up starters (plants, not pot. Missouri will be the last state to legalize. They gotta deal with the meth problem first. [I’m pretty sure it’s worse than New Mexico’s. You’ve seen “Breaking Bad,” right?)] …almost as bad as the puppy mill situation…bad thoughts, not going there.
Clean & hang hummingbird feeder (now where did I put that?)...happy thought…follow through on that
Turn bedroom#2 into a GIANT walk-in closet (easy DIY project)
- closet rod under existing shelf
- remove gas heater; connect/re-construct existing (3) closets (DIY websites here I come!) If I accomplish this, I can pursue my idea of a “Five Dollar Fashionista” webpage (you would be amazed!)
(why is this still empty [as of Friday…the weekend is still young…)
Auction: Saturday: Eight (8) full hours (not including drive time), in four (4)-season weather (cold, wind, rain, heat & humidity…always dress in layers!), in Houston (MO, not TX). Spent: $216.00 including new-to-me recliner (assuming future delivery, which was negotiated on the side with strangers…fear not, I know the auctioneer.)
Food: Homemade lasagna with garden-fresh (home-grown & canned) tomatoes & (home-grown & frozen) zucchini, and low-carb “Dreamfields” pasta (lawsuit pending for false advertising). BTW, food planning never gets side-lined from the to-do list. (Remind to tell you about my first-ever experience ([ast weekend] with my $5.00 gas BBQ grill. [I would have told you about it then, but I was in the hospital recovering from burns.] [Kidding, but it could have happened!])
Cool things that happened:
Austin (my 20-year-old next door neighbor) flirted with me twice (2x).
I had a dream about Darren (a local auctioneer/farmer/agricultural guy [married & unavailable, which is fine by me) , apparently triggering something in me about a long-lost-memory-of-male-affection; at least I know I’m not completely dead…
(I don’t like the pattern appearing above. No men allowed unless they’re good with their tools. No pun intended…seriously, I’m only interested in their “help-me-fix-this” capabilities & their handy-ness.)
Not-so-cool things that happened:
Good thing this list is still empty. (I could think of something if I really tried, BUT I choose not to, BUT the weekend is still young…, BUT I am an optimist, SO I predict it shall remain blank.)
Okay, see?…that was my rough draft, written on Friday night, with notebook in hand, while I was dancing on the porch.
Now, it’s Sunday evening, and I’m wondering if I’m insane, or just (voluntarily) isolated. I know for sure I’m not bored…I am so not suffering from a lack of things to do …but, what do I want to do? It’s not here. Not today, anyway…maybe next weekend…stay tuned to find out…
Sunday evening just became un-boring. Bill showed up. To claim Damien’s kiln. Actually, my kiln, but do
I care? Maybe, maybe not. Bill’s kinda cute, there’s always been a bit of a crush. But he’s a head-case, and probably a meth-head. Maybe I could save him. But, no, I’m not going there. Not until I find out if he's good with a hammerl