What happened to August? September and October? One minute I’m writing about escaping pigs, and the next I’m wondering about what this Thanksgiving Day will look like. Actually, I’m even excited about Veterans Day this year because if I want, Appleby’s will give me a free meal, if I’m able to make it up to Eureka or down to Ukiah. Oh boy! Still, it’s a pretty cool gesture, and if I were to make it in to Appleby’s, a rib eye steak, cooked medium, would be just the perfect thing.
So where have I been? Traveling? Camping? No, except for two extraordinary weddings, I have pretty much not left my homestead. It just goes to show how much work gets compressed into the waning weeks of the summer/fall, that I do not even have time or energy to write.
Now, I know I wrote last fall, and the fall before that, when I was equally busy, but that was when I was sleeping three or four hours, and then getting up and writing all night long. People seemed to think that was odd. Hmmm.
Now I am still sleeping three or four hours a night, but instead of getting up and writing, I lie in bed, waiting for the more respectable hour of four AM, before getting up and hitting the grindstone. In my line of work, which features a pair of scissors, I can put in as many as sixteen hours a day, with an occasional break for a sandwich or to take the Doze for a walk. And it goes without saying, since I am my own boss, I can take the time to write, if I so desire.
Therefore, I must assume that if I were to record the thoughts that flow daily though my mind, I would probably incur the wrath of my sweetest of Apple Blossoms, who prefers that I not invade her privacy any more than I already have. So I have just let the blog go.
I notice that within my immediate blogging community, almost all of the regulars, intermittently take breaks. I only wrote a few pieces late last fall, and into the winter, but depression has a way of guiding that process at times.
I have managed to dodge a bullet in the form of medication for my mood spectrum disorder, and am doing far better than I ever imagined possible, but the jury is still out on this one, and probably will be for the rest of my life. Knowing the jury that sits in on my mental roller coaster, they’re all off getting drunk on Jameson’s. I may join them.
As for lack of sleep, the nice doctors at the Veterans Clinic, steadfastly remain united on the policy of not giving me any sleep medication. The only one who would prescribe sleep meds was that nice Dr. Trevor, but while administering my sleep medication with his right hand, he administered that medication with his left hand, which completely took my libido out of the picture. Probably out back in the alley, with the empty Jameson bottle.
Millions of people take medication to help them sleep. Why do their doctors prescribe medication for them, while mine will not? It’s such a funny universe where my doctors want me to take medication which robs me of my ability to be intimate with my wife, but will not prescribe medication for the most basic of necessities in life, sleep. Go figure.