Today I Was Not In The Mood. Said mood was not get get dressed and go driving again, and be around people again. I am driving and peopled out.
I wrote last February about getting together with a group that wants to know how to spin - at least well enough to be able to take advantage of a cotton/hemp class being taught by a visiting instructor in June. They have gotten together one time since then, but I bowed out because it was being hosted in the next town to the east, some 60 miles from me. I've also skipped the last two guild meetings - the Feb. one I was getting ready for the Highland games and the March one I was packing for my Road Scholar trip. So sort of felt I should do this one.
I got my stuff together - samples of the accessories the instructor has told us we should have, with suggestions how they can be made/substitutes. Stuck two spinning wheels in the car in case someone needed to use one. Drove the 40 minutes to Ramona's (she was hosting). Ramona was home.
No one else showed up. And Ramona is *very* clear that she is not interested in learning how to spin. In fact, she is quite fussy about it. I hung out for an hour or so and then drove back home. And *this* is why even though I Should Get Out And Interact With People - I'm going back to being a lurker in the guild as soon as this workshop is over.
On the way home I realized I was hungry and driving past Captain D's. Why I felt fried fish and chips was a good idea when I still have the sinus funk going on (which is making me slightly nauseated) I'm not quite sure, unless it's because what the heck my mouth tastes fishy anyway. I've been to Captain D's at least once in the last three years, maybe twice. It feels strange, because Bob and I used to like to go there. What I really remember was filling up the little cups at the sauce bar - ketchup, tarter, yum yum, mustard - and then making up board games on the table while we waited for our order. Now they don't even have the sauce bar anymore, just hand you a couple of plastic packets.
In a few minutes I'll put on Battle Bots and do some knitting between battles. I used to be a compulsive knitter - the bag lived on the same hook as my purse. I knit in the car, in doctor's waiting rooms - hours spent knitting in the ER when Mom was going in and out a lot. And, of course, the three months at Shands. I had more than one thing going - a mindless one where I just knit, and one that needed concentration. Maybe a third. I didn't finish anything. One one hand, I was basically just sitting there all day long, day after day. But the interruptions were almost constant, and I would pop up every time Bob needed something. The knitting bag stood untouched for a year after I came home, and then I unraveled everything because I remembered where I was while I was knitting on it. I'm finally working on a lace piece, but three years of no knitting has played hob with my manual dexterity (and my hands seem to be getting older) so it's taking a long time.
March 26, 2020. We've lost the battle - we're just waiting for it to be over. I am so very very tired. If I look out the window, I can see the roof of the motel where I still have a room. If they take Bob off to dialysis (I'm not allowed to go with him) I run over there. But it's gotten weird - the Covid shutdowns have started. Most of the guests have left. I would like to go swimming, but they've closed the pool. They have a company in cleaning the carpet and everything reeks of disinfectant, and there is tension in the air. But still I can get away from the alarms and the people walking in and out and sometimes I just sit on the floor of the shower and let the water run over me. And I wish that Bob could get a break like this - that somehow I could trade places with him and just let him get a little rest and quiet.
Back in the hospital room, I lean my head on my arms on the wide windowsill and look out in the parking lot. Our bright blue Honda is there. The thought goes through my mind, unbidden. "I just want to go home." I want peace and quiet and my own house and kitchen. The alarms are going off and Bob is fussy and uncomfortable and scared and muzzy headed so there is nothing I can do that calms him and I just feel so damned helpless and I just want to go home. Even though I know that means going home alone.
I haven't been sleeping well lately. We've had another major shift in the weather - it's gone from literally freezing (32 degrees) back up to being hot. I wake up often around 3. These days I'm hyper aware of the emptiness of the bed beside me, missing the sound of his breathing. But there's no one to disturb, so I can get up, make a cup of cocoa, and read for an hour or two (which is fine on both nights, but really means that my arse is seriously dragging on my work days)
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