the weight of books

the only thing that
keeps me anchored to the couch
is books, books, and books

Grimly curious

we'll find out 

how many things 

on the to-do list 

can be done from 

the couch with 

only one knee 

properly elevated 

and resting

Guilty Pleasures

Tiny Adorable Dog cries alone
heart broken, and I take this chance
to lie on the deck without having
to inhale their cigarette smoke

why I accomplished nothing of import yesterday

exhaustion weighs, and
every day is shorter now
hammock is calling

view from the hammock

layers of clouds flow
in different directions
making us dizzy

Birthday questions between book chapters

Why, do you suppose, is it so hard for me to

rest--to focus only on ignoring my own 

entropy--when it is so recharging to my 

soul? Is this constant excuse of attending 

to the entropy around me instead, especially 

when I need rest so desperately, another 

series of the small acts of self-sabotage I 

am so good at not noticing myself doing 

until I write about them?

Tomorrow's pledge

I will ignore should

and do what needs to be done 

hibernation, rest

Autumn means

The cuddliest

box elder bug in the world 

just wants to snuggle.

temptation to do

In light of the dizziness, swelling, poor wound healing, brain foginess, pain flare-up, thyroid struggling, cold-intolerance, anemia, and my inability to grasp anything (literally or figuratively), one could argue that I might be overdoing it and should use my day off to, oh, I don't know, rest and NOT try to DO ALL THE THINGS, since that do-things strategy seems to not be working for me very well. At least it will be raining. Lying on the couch watching the rain seems to be about my speed right now. Must resist temptation to do . . .

who wouldn't cry

The sun was already out of sight, but it was still a dreamy, shady 80 degrees, and I went out to the deck and set up the hammock (even though I've already REALLY overdone it this week), and some of the new neighbors were there, but they weren't swearing, and their illegal dog was acting really weird, and I wonder if they also don't realize that when the signs get put on the grass out front that it's been treated to make it look soft and lush and inviting and is now extremely poisonous to pets and children, the poisoning also applies to the back, and I wonder if the tiny, adorable doggie has been poisoned or is just trying to whack underground moles to death with her skull, but then I get back to my book, which is nonfiction and makes me cry anyway because I'm so tired, and it's so beautiful on the deck now that I've swept away the dead neon green and black wasp and the last bits of sunlight are showing me the glowing spider webs above the neighbors' yard, who wouldn't cry?

2 butterflies exhausted

Two butterflies
on the deck dancing
with each other reminded me
that I can still appreciate beauty
even when I am lying on the couch,
too exhausted to go outside to
play with them.
One  was a
swallowtail
of some kind, brilliant
yellow and black in the
rare sunlight, and I have
a particular love of swallowtails
even if they are not blue.  This
is rest done right, my friend
with no chance of ill-timed
dizziness to cause
         resting-
           related
             injuries.

About resting badly

for Liz, who is probably right

"You're doing it

wrong," she says

on Facebook in what

I imagine is the aggrieved-

affectionate tone the

Bloggess' long-suffering

husband Victor uses

when he says it to

her.  I think she's right

because other people

would not encourage

resting so much if it

did as much damage

to them as it somehow

does to me.  Does

anyone know where

I could learn how to

safely rest?  Are there

classes for this sort

of thing?  I can't see

the solution as: stop

resting because being

exhausted is bad

enough, but it's worse

when I add resting-

related injuries to the 

mix.  There must be 

a way for me to learn 

how to rest more 

safely.  Maybe

if I practiced it 

as often as I am 

supposed to, I 

would be 

better 

at it?
It can't
hurt
to
try,
right?

To Don't

Today

I want

to lie

like a cat

in the

sunlight

and the

moonlight

as 24 hours

pass by

with 

nothing

in them

I need

to do.

41 cent Yoda stamps

Postage is going up soon, and today is a vacation day. I did the cleaning Saturday and the resting Sunday, so today, I think, is a good day to write letters, so I can someday be through the remaining 41 cent Yoda stamps and on to 42 (and eventually the 44 and 46 and the forever stamps for which I don't have to pay supplemental postage). I wonder if it's a good plan not to start until after the impossible snow stops falling.  You never quite know with impossible snow how long it is going to last.

My plans for the holiday

My plans for the holiday include
recovery from this cold
     (can you bore a virus to death?)
nothing constructive or practically valuable
reading, anime, manga
no significant interactions with other human beings
rest

When I don't sleep

When I don't sleep, I hurt more.  I'm not talking about how, without rest, the body can't repair itself, etc.  I'm talking about how the physical act of not resting, of not ceasing motion, can lead to actual injury and discomfort. 

• I do bad things to my neck. 
• My right shoulder separates (an older injury).
• I wrench the muscles over my ribs.
• Etc. :(

Along with not sleeping, I seem to beat myself up in some irritatingly unconscious (while I'm conscious) bout of self-flagellation.  And I am just too tired to get up and turn on a light and read, even though I know it's what I should do, and there are so many books I want to read right here in my room.  Whine, whine, winge winge, whine.

Sigh.  I'd say I feel better now, but it's been over a week since I even got my "normal" amount of sleep (2-4 hours). 

Don't worry: MacGyver's still keeping me company as I write and research jobs and clean and hurt.  Hair's much better this season.  He just got betrayed by another girl.  You'd think he'd learn.  Sigh.

Return of the Sloth

I've been away for a bit of a vacation at my parents' house in another midwestern state where I did my best impression of a sloth for five days. I left the house twice (and saw a deer one of those times) and interacted with exactly one non-family member (okay, three if you include two phone calls about a group I organize). It was lovely. So lovely. Kind of. Well, that aspect of it was lovely. And it was desperately (Do I mean definitely?) inspirational for numerous reasons, both positive and negative, that I may surely explicate in the future when my inner sloth starts moving again. Any time now . . .