Ah, the weekend. So many plans, so much to get out and do. Um, not so much.
The weekend started off with B going to visit a friend and coming home with a head cold, which led to me getting a head cold, which in turn led Wifey to get a head cold, and led all of us (OK, just me) to say “fuck it” and not do anything all weekend.
Somewhere between miles 1 and 434 of my drive home from Pennsylvania last week, I made the executive decision to start writing and posting here more frequently. And I did!
Then I didn’t.
I’ve spent the last few weeks months grappling with a level of holiday-induced anxiety that I’ve not experienced in some time, mostly because this was the first holiday since I-don’t-know-when that I wasn’t on some form of antidepressant. All that anxiety finally came to its anti-climactic conclusion on Thanksgiving (Thursday to the rest of the world) when I unveiled the newer, fatter, older, even more, unsuccessful version of myself to my family for the first time since Christmas Eve 2019.
Imagine playing a Hindenburg disaster-level shit show over and over again in your head for months, only to have the reality be a flaccid leftover birthday balloon found behind the couch. That, my friends, is my anxiety in a nutshell.
My post COVID creep back into the world started on Wednesday with a short “Last Day of Quarantine” solo hike in the woods of the Sylvan Preserve. Then, I made it official on Thursday when I returned to the cold, sagging, well-milked bosom of society with a trip to Meijer to buy groceries. It was all very anti-climatic and soon forgotten.
NOTE: ALL POST-ILLNESS UPDATES ARE LOCATED BELOW
It’s been a month since I felt the need to post anything here; I apologize in advance for now breaking that silence like a wet fart birthed from betweenst the cheeks of that angry wino that hangs out on the corner of Roosevelt and Bluff.
It’s been about three weeks since I last posted anything here and 7 weeks or more since I posted anything that I actually cared about writing, and even that is debatable.
What was that I said about things staying the same?
So far, my September has been better than my August was, but that’s not to say that I feel all pantsless and fancy-free.
It’s been about 10 days since our bank account was pillaged by nefarious fucktards, and other than the process of working with the bank to get our money back, I can think about little else right now.
Oh, Saturday, how I remember you. I did a 22.5-mile dirt road ride from the house and sweat my balls off. I also hit one of my first weight-loss goals (-20 lbs). It was a good day. That lasted until about 11 AM.
This all seems very familiar to me. And by “this,” I mean writing a post about something I did 2 days ago and now having little desire to write about. And not just because it wasn’t that interesting!
Yet, I still write. Sorry.
