I sat down just now and realized that I am completely knackered.
Sure, I didn’t sleep well — again, for anyone who’s counting — but it’s more than that. It’s incomplete instructions at work to avoid leaving a paper or electronic trail for lawyers hell-bent on making the world more difficult for my client with no real justifiable reason. The client is stepping up to clean their environmental mess, but that’s just not good enough for the lawyers. So we dance around avoiding leaving a trail that is “discoverable” to avoid having them take WiP and discussions out of context to argue against the client.
I don’t much care for lawyers. Sorry if you are one. Nothing personal. I’d be happy if you could prove me wrong when I say the ones I’ve met are closer to leaches than to humans on the evolutionary scale. [I retract this comment, see my full explanation/apology below.]
But more than that, it is this whole charade with the election that adds to the sense of fatigue. The people who adhere to their cognitive dissonance is driving me ape-shit because it is so exhausting. Is this what we’ve come to? A vote is only valid if I agree with you? I still haven’t given up the working idea of moving to Canada or Finland or Iceland or Scotland if any one of them would have me and mine. But they don’t want to risk the contagion of the Crazy Fucking Ugly American (TM) any more than I want to continue to deal with it myself. When a full 40% or more of the country is absolutely batshit crazy and thinks that truth is a malleable concept, you only have to say the opposite louder and with guns to make the truth bend to your will… gods, that’s fucked up.
Take a picture of your declassé
Take a picture and you only say
Take a picture of your ugly country
Take a picture and you only say
I am the ugly AmericanBig Black
Then there is the continued hope that I can somehow find someone who understands inflammatory disease who wants to give me working tools on how to solve my own issues aside from telling me rote and untrue “calories in must be less than calories out” and “eat fruit” (nature’s candy) when I’m a diabetic. Yeah. At least she didn’t sound like a Russian grandmother scolding me to “eat right”. My heart fell, however, when she talked about BMI, which is the most useless measure of fitness ever contrived for someone like me. At my lowest, most svelte shape, I was still “overweight” per BMI, though my measurements for bone structure are closer to a football linebacker than they are to a ballet dancer. If I had more than 15% fat on my body, I’d be surprised. But overweight. Now: See a specialist. Great. One that will tell me to each carbs and fish in spite of the carbs raise my glucose and my kids are still developing, so fish should be limited. How the hell does that help me? Should I do body weight exercises or yoga to strengthen and tone? Yes. Which? Yes. *SIGH*
The kids are at each other’s throats after nine months of jail time, and the cats are still going bonkers over Rogue because of his cone (which comes off tomorrow, along with his stitches, THANK GOD!) while Rogue has decided that he’s had enough of not being king of the hill, so he’s doing things he’s well aware of being naughty to try and establish dominance. Have you ever seen a cone-headed cat try to bully other cats? It doesn’t work well. So he just gets stubborn and refuses to get out of anyone’s way.
It’s times like today where I just want to crawl into a hole and pull it in after myself for a few hours. Or decades.