random thoughts – Day 1,535 – (Saturday) – revived

It took seven full days of doing not a lot to decompress from whatever mysterious crap lives in my psyche, soul, gut, tense shoulders, insomnia, wherever. Today I finally felt human/ awake /alive again, which seems worth logging for the unscientific boredom/self-knowledge self-study. 

In other notes, my fitness watch, which, although the accuracy is questionable, logs sleep and tells me I have not been sleeping very much. Last night’s alleged rest was a mere four hours and 55 minutes – typical once upon a long time ago when my friends and I were club scene socialites, but less so since becoming a sleep-loving recluse who has strived for a solid eight hours for the past decade or so. The average sleep duration for the past month is allegedly six and a half hours. What, what? That might explain some things.

Anyway. On the first day of feeling alive and like a human in a while, I dressed to leave the house and actually left the house. The shopping bag with clothes and jigsaw puzzles to be donated was brought to St. Vincent de Paul, where some of the items had previously been purchased. The lack of a dressing room means sometimes I buy, wash, and mend garments before trying them on and and discovering they don’t fit. Today’s items that were re-donated included a blue and white striped cotton shirt which had sleeves that were too tight. Another item re-donated was summer weight denim trousers that were laundered, worn once, and determined to be too large.

Peacocks.

The donations were deposited into the bins in the vestibule, and then, as predicted earlier in the week, there was wandering of the uncrowded store for a relaxing hour. This week’s financial support in the form of purchases included a pair of soft, summery, harem style pants in black with peacocks at the bottom of the pant legs and waist, a teal shirt to go with drapey, summery pants I intend to wear to a wedding later this month, a kimono style summer bathrobe in black with peacocks, a frame, and a pack of file folders. 

Buying two items with peacocks on them was not intentional, but the rejection of a pair of red and white striped cotton drawstring waist pants was. Since arriving home, thoughts of the striped pants keep intruding and there may be a trip back there tomorrow to see if they are still there and if fate declares it, they will need to be bought. Other recent purchases seem to suggest delusions that I will be summering somewhere other than Lowell, like The Hamptons, Nantucket, or The Vineyard, all places I have never had the opportunity to visit.

The remainder if the afternoon was a luxuriously gooey stretch of time. There was an initial idea to return to the Grecian Festival for one of the Greek dancing lessons, but there was a failure to consult the schedule in a timely manner and when it was finally checked, both sessions had already happened. Oops.

There was internal debate about attending the festival to see the Greek dance demonstration and eat supper, but when all the elements for solo attendance were considered – parking, crowds, lines for food, cost for food, nobody to talk with – the idea was dismissed. It was all still so fresh from Friday night.

Besides, the avocado bought on Wednesday was finally perfectly ripened and ready to use. It was smashed and mixed with garlic and lemon juice and spread on lightly toasted olive bread, then topped with Kalamata olives and sliced, perfectly ripened tomato. So quickly prepared. So already paid for. So delicious. No parking or queuing in line required.

A post-avocado burst of energy led to a flurry of activity. The outdoor rug was unrolled onto the deck. The table base was carried out from the shed and the glass top was rolled across the lawn. Once the table was assembled, the four companion chairs were schlepped from the shed two at a time. Everything was wiped down with vinegar and water and arranged on the rug. After that, it was time for outdoor R&R in the late day sun.  

There was a smidge of self-congratulations for my near-total self-sufficiency, cultivated by previous relationships with men whose failed promises led to me doing everything myself. Fun note – some of those guys later commented (accused?) that I “don’t need anyone.” My confident reply was sometimes, “you made me what I am today, I hope you’re satisfied,” which Mummu used to say in a sing-song manner.

Outdoor R&R.

The funny part to all of this is that Mom and Step-Dad offered to come this weekend to help me set up the deck stuff and specifically the umbrella, which I can’t do on my own due to the depth of the table and the lack of depth of my reach and upper body strength. At the time of the conversation, I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother setting up the table, chairs, and umbrella, because last year, they were used only once. Mom reminded me that it rained all last summer and I insisted it might not be worth the effort. Today, it was sunny and beautiful and I felt less dead, and changed my mind.

Tonight, I sat at the newly assembled and cleaned table with a Finnish Long Drink on ice and the book for book club and got myself to page 288 of 452. Ugh. The book is taking forever. I really miss the days of tearing through books cover to cover on one or two sittings. Life was different then. Or maybe the books I read at the time were.