I had to return moving blanket,
formerly known as the blanket p____ed upon
by a cat, before I got charged for taking
I had a lovely conversation with the manager
returned the blanket and got the name of a moving
firm that might be able to help put me out of my misery.
Moving a metal shop is a feat that most artist have
convulsions about, nightmares too.
I have yet to have a panic attack,
but I’ve been taking my meds fairly religiously
and I had A CUP OF COFFEE to calm me down. I’m flying high
on adrenaline, so I can accomplish the impossible.
I know what you’re thinking. Bi-polar.
I’m thinking, I need to be able to make
myself pack and move and organize so I can
get out of here. Otherwise, apathy sets in
and you know what follows: depression in
spite of meds. I can’t afford to shut down right now.
I have to move, I have to pack, I have to dig
through grass to find my steel. Ask any metal sculptor
who has left metal outside for a season
and they will probably start to giggle
in a not so sane way. It is as if the
grass wants to reclaim the iron into the ground.
I scheduled an estimate to move three storage spaces of
my inventory, then I went to get a prescription filled.
Now, I am going to tell you why I work only two days a week.
I get overwhelmed easily. I can pack a day, like
nobody’s business. I don’t mean to, I just can’t help it.
Then, I’m late, late, late, LATE, Late and late to each thing
on my list. Then I fret, fret, fret, FRET, Fret and fret for
the rest of the day and the night and the next day too.
This is my brain on meds, without is a mystery now.
Better to continue on the med route for now until things settle
I had to leave the groceries at the store to meet the movers.
Then I drove home to show the movers my studio,
then I was supposed to drive to parenting therapy,
with my bear, but needed to pick up the groceries
then meet my bear there,
fielded two calls,
was late to the appointment,
which made me late to my next appointment,
Then I went shopping for clothes for Girly.
She chose yesterday to grow out of all of her clothes.
I go to a resale store that sorts their clothes well
and she now has some dresses that are too cute for words
and more tights that will fit her way into next year.
I just could not find socks to save my life.
Sleepers that don’t fit like diving suits are good.
I was beginning to wonder if she was working her quads
as part of her exercise regiment.
Onesies that fit are good.
Then it started to rain and my cell phone battery went
into the red. I hunted down the eldest who has the
makings of a stable human, I made the child happy,
then I gave up on being a responsible human who packs one box a day.
Monday task: Go to therapy, go to bed.
Tuesday task: Go to work, go to bed
Wednesday task: Take Ibuprofen to stop the spasms in my back
Thursday task: Go to therapy, find a wayward my child,
go to bed after never finding him. Document the absence.
Friday task: Teach a class, find the Tall one,
get the boys for the weekend after fielding 7 calls
convincing ex spouse that it truly is my weekend,
even if he can’t count or read,
without screaming obscenities.
Saturday task: laundry, gardening, packing,
cleaning, artwork, load a carload of items drive to new house
-pick one, then go to bed
Sunday task: see Saturday, pick another item.