Underneath my yellow skin

Tag Archives: grumpiness

Fuck everything…and nothing at all

I’ve woken up in a bad mood the past three or four days in a row. I have no idea why. It’s understandable, but not something  I want to deal with at the moment. My sleep, never good in the best of the times, is all over the fucking map right now. I was so tired last night, I wanted to go to bed at 11 p.m. I haven’t gone to bed at that time in…ever, unless I’m sick. But, I have been known to doze throughout the day if I’m sick or depressed. Not really sleeping, but not NOT sleeping, either. Last night, I was too exhausted to move, but I couldn’t fall asleep, either. I didn’t manage to fall asleep  until 3:30 a.m. or 4:00 a.m. Or rather, that’s when I put myself to bed. When I actually fell asleep, I’m not sure. Time has no meaning. Life has no meaning. I know the latter is not true, but it feels that way.

Actually, I don’t know the latter is true. I just assume it’s true. I’ve never felt life to have any meaning, but I assume there must be one. I mean, we’re alive. It would be a pretty heightened sense of farce if this was all for naught. Or for some higher being’s amusement. Which it might be. Who knows? I am not a theologist nor a philosopher. The point is that I’m tired, and not in the way I normally am. Way back many decades ago, I used to sleep four hours a night. There was a brief time (a semester) when it was under four hours. It was four hours a night for most of college and roughly a decade after. Then, through the aid of taiji, I managed to stretch it out to six hours. It was still me going to bed at five or six in the morning and getting up six hours later, though. Before the self-isolation started…what was that a month ago? A month and a half? Whatever. I had been working on making my sleep schedule more ‘normal’ for lack of a better world. Or rather, more day-based. I started pushing my sleep time ahead little by little, and before all this, I was hitting 2 a.m. as a regular bedtime. Now, it’s three or four in the morning again, and it’s either five hours of sleep or eight. Which I never get unless I’m sick. Am I sick? Who knows?

One of the hardest things about covid-19 is that it’s invisible so it’s hard to see the tangible effects. When I’m outside, I look around, and everything looks the same as before. It’s spring now, and there are birds singing, clear blue skies, and it’s starting to heat up. There are people golfing and playing games on their front lawn. Which makes me angry, by the way, but I acknowledge that they could be practicing proper social-distancing protocol while cavorting. Even if they aren’t, there’s nothing I can do about it but continue to do my best practices. I’m just afraid that as the weather gets better, there will be more people disregarding social distancing practices.

Side Note: I find it sickly ironic that the same people who years ago were yelling about how they would be the best soldiers in any war ever can’t even social distance for a month without losing their minds. I’m not one of those people who are dismissive of people struggling with staying home, but it does say something about us as a people that we’re having this hard of a time doing it. Especially the people who think they’re warriors.


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Fuck spri–summer and the horse it rode in on

Fuck summer. No, seriously, fuck summer. If I could, I would ban it from the face of the earth. One of the worst things about Minnesota is that we can go from a frost advisory two weeks ago to 90 degrees four days ago. Today, it’s 76 degrees, ‘feels like’ 77 with a high of 87. This whole week is going to be mid-seventies to mid-eighties, and I Do. Not. Want. I find that my grumpiness ratchets up in direct proportion to the heat. In other words, the hotter it gets, the more of a bitch I become. I also feel physically limp and drained, and I want nothing more than to sleep. But I can’t because I’m all puffy and hot, and my brain is about to explode.

What the fuck happened to spring? We didn’t have one. It’s not unusual for us to have snow in late March/Early April, but the cold we’ve had this year means that we skipped straight from winter to summer. It’s been really hard on me both emotionally and physically. Emotionally because I hate summer, so going from forty degrees to eighty degrees in a matter of a week (and going back and forth between the two) is not good for my psyche. It’s also not good for my body because I can’t acclimate to one or the other.

It’s one reason my sinuses are exploding. Some of it is allergy, and some of it is reaction to the ever-changing temperature. My homeostasis needs to be relatively settled in order for my sinus system to run optimally. Let’s face it. My sinus system sucks in general as does my immune system, so anything that throws it off is not wanted.

I ran to Cubs today to do some grocery shopping. I was wearing light sweats (with pockets! I can’t tell you how amazing that is as a woman. It should be simple, but no. It’s still a reason to be joyful in the year of our lord, 2019) and a sleeveless shirt made in Taiwan (in other words, meant to be worn in the heat), and I immediately felt like shit when I walked out the door. It’s hard to explain to someone who doesn’t feel the same way how enervating it is to be in the heat for me. Five minutes, and I was ready to snap off someone’s head. I had to keep a tight rein on my ire, and that’s part of the reason I hate summer so much.

I’ve been dealing with my sinuses for the last month. At the beginning of that month, I also had a cold. That was a lot of fun, let me tell you. I could not hear out of my left ear for two weeks. Fortunately, my ear ‘popped’, and I can hear out of it now. Not so fortunately, the rest of my sinuses are raging out of control. My nose still feels as if there are a thousand needles piercing it. My throat is sore and clogged, and I’m having drainage in it on and off. My lymph nodes feel swollen to the touch, and I’m worried I might be getting another cold.

I’m tired. I’m grumpy. I’m dealing with sinus issues, and summer has just begun. It’s only going to get worse from here. Sorry that this is so short, but all my motivation is drained. Here is a video of the incredible Cher and the rrrrowr Andy Garcia (had SUCH a crush on him years ago) singing ABBA’s Fernando. Cher is still queen after all this time.