year end wrap up

I supPOSE if I don’t have anything to say, I shouldn’t attempt to say it. I mean, I can write a thousand words on damned near any subject without actually working too hard, so maybe I should just pick a topic, any topic, and stick with it.

How about a year end wrap up?

Let’s see. Almost a year has gone by during which I haven’t got enough sleep. You will note that my most common Topic is enough sleep, or not enough sleep. And that’s because thanks to my spouse’s mental state and the multitude of joys that is perimenopause, I have not been gettin’ enough shut eye. I’ve tried going to bed earlier, staying up all night, etc., and the dreaded ‘getting enough exercise’ but no dice. I also have RLS, Restless Leg Syndrome, don’t you know, so I kick and jump during the night; and I snore like the creaks of a moving ship, and I thrash, sweat, and grind my teeth like a cute little rock crusher.

You would think that this would be enough to make Paul leap up and say “I am sleeping with a fiend in human form – begone, vile spirit, and trouble me no more!!!” but instead when I ask him what my snores sound like, he says, “I find it oddly comforting.” He sounds sincere and one thing I’ve learned about Paul after 25 very odd years is that he’ll be reticent about his own opinion but he won’t shame himself by lying about it.

It all becomes worthwhile when we (with any luck) wordlessly snuggle the next morning. In the cold grey before dawn, all that skin is like magick armour. Mind you if Paul starts talking the majick disappears pretty fast, as it’s usually a variant on the usual where did we go wrong lament. But in the meantime, I’m not getting enough sleep and my cognitive functioning, always a mixed and variable entity, is completely shot to the place where, in the wonderful words of Rudyard Kipling “the dead crabs go”.

Besides, I really don’t think I’m doing all that bad these days. I’m not nearly as crabby about life but THAT MIGHT HAVE SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE HOT TUB.

Yes, indeed, received the gladsome news that Mike’s hot tub is up, running and able to receive guests; tonight marks the night of the First Annual Post Winter Solstice Soak. Calloo callay, etc. etc. with a yip yip yip arrrooooooo thrown in on the side. Happiness is a friend with a hot tub.

What else happened this year. Well, there was a fair amount of death this year. I guess I’m doing a good job of ignoring anything that doesn’t smite me in the phyz; but I did the eulogy at my grandmother’s funeral and it’s a good thing somebody with some public speaking skills got up there and did something, because the minister blasted through the service as if he was half an hour late for a (deleted… it was funny, but only to me). And I did the Order of Service for Rev Katie’s installation (whip out the Makita! we’re gonna install us a minister!). And I gave a couple of sermons, and work got a whole lot better, and Keith got his green belt, and Paul seems to be finally pulling out of his depression, and we didn’t have to sell the house, and he’s still working for Air Canada, and Katie didn’t go to jail for assaulting that kid, and the next line deleted, and she didn’t get killed or permanently damaged by the car accident, and she’s not drinking and even I’ve reduced my alcohol consumption (why sometimes I go days without drinking a beer, and a lot of the time I’m only having one beer. Tonight is NOT going to be one of those nights. I’ll need beer to fortify myself against seeing certain people naked, and I don’t mean that in a bad way).

I signed up for a comedy course and I have investigated where all the open mikes are in town (my word, but there are a lot of them).

This next paragraph was a self directed diatribe about my weight. I reread it, it bored me, I deleted it.

Now I must do the Laundry that Oozed Across the Bedroom Floor, dejunk enough of this house to get Paul to stand down from the Mental Health Red Alert, buy beer for this evening, sweet talk Paul into buying a phone for Katie, buy a book for my brother, pack off some cookies for Tam Tam, boot Katie’s ass outta bed, cure cancer, formulate and enforce world peace and go dancing with the Dalai Lama. A modest enough plan, and I’ve got hours and hours to do it in.

Pic is something random.

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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