It started out all right. I got up. I took my meds. I got dressed, and got my “utility belt” ready. I had some banana bread and coffee. Doc got home. I did stuff, he slept. I woke him up at quarter to 10, we had to be at the bus stop at 14 after ten. We got there, no bus came. So we had to walk up to Tropicana. Okay, I was sore, because I am out of shape, but I run this gaunltlet once every three months, I can do this. Doc takes my jacket, it is too warm to wear it. He is wearing his. He is weird.
We get to Trop and need to jay-run across the street. Doc yells “RUN” and takes off.
Out of curiosity, how many of you have had nightmares where you need to run or move forward, and it feels like there are two hands wrapped around your calves and 2 wrapped around your thighs, keeping them from moving the way your brain is telling them to? I have that nightmare ALL the time. Almost all of my nightmares involve that scenario. Where was I? Doc said “RUN!” And I started to run. Or, the top half of me started to run. My legs did not move. I was in the middle of 6 lanes of traffic, against the light, all I could see was pavement coming up at my face, and my arms were paralyzed, I couldn’t put them out in front of me to take the fall. I dragged my left (dominant) foot up at the Very Last Microsecond, and did not fall, but had to walk through the rest of the intersection. The drivers, having just witnessed me almost faceplant under a Nissan, had mercy on me and let me get to the sidewalk. There was the bus.
It took a good five minutes to calm down enough and cry enough to tell Doc what had happened and what had almost happened, and just kept quiet about how he just left me thee to die in the street, yelling at me, not even thinking something might be physically wrong.
Then, getting off the bus, I had a problem because of a manspreader and the ignorant, but not racist black man tried to start a fight with Doc over “handling his woman” and can I just say sigh? We got off the bus and had to wait for another so we went into my favorite dollar store, but when I called Doc over to ask about gifts for his friends and co-workers, which are mini-loaves of banana bread, he didn’t come over and made a big, loud deal about it and completely embarrassed me. I went right back outside and had a cigarette, mortified. There was so much stuff in there I needed to look at and look for, for art supplies and it will likely be another 3 months before I get there again. FUCK!
We’re almost home, within a half a mile, and my right hip/leg give out and I am forced to take a step with my left foot and drag my right up to meet it. I try to stretch and do silly walks to snap out of it, because it is a really slow way to move and I just wanted to get home. Then, Doc said something and pissed me off. I found my super powers. I marched the rest of the way home, getting here about 4 minutes before him (that’s another thing, he walks 10 paces behind me, he will not walk with me and will do everything he can to avoid being seen with me in stores), and got my damn boots off. Doc Marten, I dearly love you, I think I may need a new pair of you. Even though you look three years old.
Speaking of, I mean to replace the old neon Doc Martens. The boots pictured above will be sitting beneath my tree Xmas morning. Not bad. I go for 16 years without new boots and I get two new pair in one year. Go me.
I just downloaded some plugins that most people overlook that really help out wordpress sites. My thing now is setting up a second blog, this one for poetry. It’s the only logical way. Enter each poem as a post. I’m not so interested in the post page, I’m more interested in the posts themselves, they will be easier to index as posts. There is a way to do this without installing another instance of WordPress or another database, it has to do with Categories. Clearly I have to read more about it. There has to be a way to post my poetry.