Now I'm home and I have my headphones on. It makes no difference. The noise shakes the house. It makes the whole house rumble, I can feel it. And now there is some crazy helicopter hovering over. I am feeling really unstable (I'm trying not to use stigmatizing words, it's hard, gang), right now. I'm debating taking my afternoon xanax early. And maybe going out with the dog and a couple of the cats and chain smoke for an hour or so.
Doc asked how in the world I knew that the packet that came back with LeLu that said "rosemary for remembrance" was spoken by Ophelia to the King in Hamlet. I told him simple, and started crying, it was my favorite bit of the old Bard. And played brilliantly by Helena Bonham Carter in the movie starring Mel Gibson. It was before he had completely lost his mind, so he's not bad in it, either. So Doc hugged me, and let me cry on his shoulder until I got weirded out with the physical contact.
Someone on twitter the other day told me I deserved my own TV show for being asexual and having as many cats as I do. If I didn't think reality TV was a disease, I might have agreed with him. And I don't think he thought I was serious.
Wow, I took the dog out really early for his walk, it's just now four.
I found a big ol' file folder with loose journal pages scrawled in various notebooks and binders and then harvested and stuffed in this folder for three decades. I'm really curious what I'll find.
The next morning . . .
Doc stayed home, and contrary to his promise, he was mean to me, so I went to bed early and got nothing done. I don't know if I was mean first, I don't think I was. It's done and over. We're fine.
I've been reading about asexuality, and the more I read about it, the more I think that is what I identify as, sexually. How do I broach this subject with my husband of 15 years? It really won't change anything. And he hates me labeling myself. Which I seem to do more and more as I get older. I'm really grasping for an identity. Maybe a group to belong to. I have to fit somewhere.
Speaking of, my twitter invisibility shield is back up. Someone on my timeline made a crack about the Super Bowl commercials making him suicidal and he got pounced on by SJW's and advocates. I posted, around the same time, that I heard a gun shot, could Katy Perry's performance have put someone over the edge? Crickets. So I'm immune again. It feels pretty neat. I didn't like being the center of attention, even though it only lasted a couple of days, it was pretty overwhelming.
Erg, why is my tummy upset? Maybe it's just gas, but from what? I've had coffee and water today. And not much coffee at that. I'm going to go sit outside until I feel better.
Have a great day.