I'm Less Ill And Quite Grateful

I'm better! I'm better than better, in fact. The day before yesterday was terrible, not the least cause of which was the public puking incident, and I was sent home from work for looking like the less warm side of death. Yesterday was mildly better. I left work early of my own accord, I did not vomit in any telephone booths, and I had the strength to do some laundry in between brief arguments with my digestive tract over its refusal to choose a happy medium between not breaking anything down at all or pureeing everything too thoroughly.

Today is bliss comparatively. I woke up at 5:00 am feeling decidedly less achey and more energized. Actually, I did wonder if I was really feeling well when I woke up an hour-and-a-half earlier than I ever have to get up in the morning, but there I was, upright and showering and answering e-mails. I even had time to shave my sweater before heading off to work.

So, thanks to everyone who wished me good health and commiserated over the nausea in all its grotesqueness. I am well on my way to near-perfect health, which I am so grateful for, before I have to head up to Cosmopolis for stressful family gatherings, because I will need my strength.

It is less than a full two days before The Day That Needs A New Name, and the spirit of joy and giving is finally ever so slowly descending and settling around me like a warm down comforter. No really, it is. And I was thinking that this regained sense of human warmth and generosity necessitates a listing of things that I am happy for in my life. I tend to spend much too much time worrying about the negatives.

1. The Fiery One is, of course, first on my list. Recently, I have been suffering a headlong downhill slide into my mid-winter depression, and he has been an unfaltering supporter. When I cry while drying dishes, or when I’m trying to express my sense of futility, or I’m crumbling under my rising neuroses, he rubs my shoulders and smooths the lines from between my brows and says the always endearing “oh, my girl” in a voice filled with sympathy. When he does these things, I know that things will be alright, even if not now or not this week, that they will be alright.

2. Blue just called me up from her parents’ house up north to tell me that she’s grateful for the Fiery One and I and that she hopes our holidays treat us well. Synchronicity’s at work here, because I was just about to write about how much I miss all the friends I don’t get to see much of these days, she being one of them. I am heading to Cosmopolis in the morning and will get to see a number of them – Starcat, Batty, the Phoenixcow, Frances, and a few others (I’m pressed for time, so if I missed your name, don’t sue me) – and I can’t wait. (By the way, Phoenixcow, I have gotten your messages, and no, I haven’t called you back, but I am coming up, so we’ll do coffee or beer or something like that). My Cosmopolis friends have seen me through years of thick and thin, they people the memories of my early adult years, and for some reason they stick with me, even if I don’t telephone or e-mail enough.

3. I have finally settled into a job that I enjoy with co-workers that I actually like. It took me three-and-a-half years in this city to find it, and I’m so glad that it finally happened. Having employment that does not do its best to destroy me emotionally and psychologically frees up my brain for types of thinking and creativity that I worried were lost, and now they are slowly ebbing back into my life.

4. Presents. I am grateful for upcoming presents. What? Me, selfish? Why, well, okay, just a little. But I love watching other people open their presents just as much. The feeling of look-we-all-get-stuff rocks.

5. My birds are cool. They sing to me excitedly in the morning, because their lives are small and uneventful, so my scarey-assed morning face is a pretty big highlight at the beginning of their day. And a huge thanks goes out to Friday and her mate, P, for feeding and watering the little guys over the holidays. Without them, Elliott and The Male and The Female would be little more than tiny meatballs when we return. (We did mean to name the last two, but the Fiery One was away when we got them, and by the time he came home and recovered from jet lag, The Male and The Female kind of stuck. It’s a good thing that their brains are the size of pinheads and they don’t have a strong sense of self: those things really limit the amount of psychic damage we can do).

6. That last five pounds I lost will not be missed. Adios, annoying thigh lumps.

7. I’m just about done here, I suppose. We all know that I can go on and on, but come on, I’ve got shit to do. Well, no, not much actually. It’s more like I have beer to drink. But the real reason for point number seven is the cheeziest point of all. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression, though. Just because you’re last doesn’t mean you’re the most important. It just means I thought of you last. All sarcasm aside, those of you who bother to read me on a regular basis or even semi-regularly are greatly appreciated. Sometimes when it feels like I’m the only one who hears me, I know that at least one other person somewhere out there has dropped by. I’ve also come into contact with people I never would have known otherwise through this bloggery business, and that is a good thing. It makes the world seem a little friendlier at times.

And with that, I am off to drink beer and smoke my last public cigarettes before I visit the city that outlawed smoking, Cosmopolis. I wish all of you an at least decent few days of presents and drinking and overeating and friends and family. I will return fatter and with gifts and no less wonderful than I am at this very moment. Ha!

’Twas the Night Before Christmas” by Clement Clarke Moore

Things I Got For Christmas (And Some Williams)

I've Been Sent Home With The Flu (And Some Tagore On The Side)