The end of civilization is a queue

This weekend I spent my first few nights in my new, Keizer home. And so far, I love it. The backyard is lovely and quiet. The inside spaces are interesting and fun. I don’t have a refrigerator (it’s a couple weeks off still) or a washer and dryer (same excuse), but the heating/cooling system is swift and the dishwasher works a treat. I have two of the three bedrooms set up; the undone bedroom is the master and it will have to wait until I buy a bigger bed for the “all done.” The garage is navigatable and kitchen is a solid 75% put away. I’ve discovered that open concept rooms are hard to arrange. On that note, I decided to head back to the beach where I have a fridge, clothes washing capabilities, and internet (the one utility I haven’t arranged for yet.)

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That was written last night and was as far as I could get. While I was (and am) tired, I was also emotionally overwhelmed and unsure exactly how to describe it all.

This stupid f***ing pandemic

I admit it. I’m over COVID-19 and all the other stupid, random disasters that seem to have decided to party in 2020. While I am trying hard to maintain the proper respect for myself and others, masks are hot and uncomfortable, I’m tired of everything being either closed or swarmed, and I’m seriously considering quitting Facebook because of… well… Facebook.

Being an introvert, the stay-at-home and limit distance part of all this has not been as hard on me as it has been for other people. Having no children (awesome planning, that), I have not been thrown into online schooling or other parenting traumas. What has been hard is moving, with it’s accompanying purging and simultaneous needing stuff. The lines at Goodwill are epic. Habit for Humanity Restores aren’t open, or if they are open, the limited hours make them impossible to get to. Anything and everything having to do with home maintenance is swarmed.

I’m over it. I’ve hit my maximum inconvenience threshold. I’m not sure what the next step is, but the world should know I am seriously displeased.

This stupid f***ing economy

Last week was a hard one at my job. I work for the State of Oregon in a tiny little agency called the Oregon Watershed Enhancement Board. We give grants to improve natural areas. We are almost exclusively funded by lottery dollars. And the lottery has been shut down for the last two months. So, guess what? Last week the management team had to announce cuts, layoffs, and possible future sacrifices. Because my job is dealing with money, my position is relatively secure. But various friends are being transfered, laid off, or generally destabilized. It’s not a fun scene.

This stupid f***ing move

As I moved into the house this weekend, I couldn’t shake a feeling of sadness.

I missed Mom as I fretted over where to put things, made a list of things to pick up at the store, and appliance shopped. I missed the general support and advice she would have given. If she were here, I’d be making smart-ass remarks to all her advice and rolling my eyes. But I miss that.

This stupid f***ing body

Because of COVID, my health care provider has stopped all non-essential services. So, I haven’t received an allergy shot for around 10 weeks. (I’m supposed to get a shot every four weeks.) I can feel the difference in my breathing and haven’t been able to smell anything in weeks.

Moving, in itself, is allergy provoking. Everything in my house was very dusty and though I tried to clean it before I moved it, I have to clean everything again in the new house. I’ve gone through so many paper towels I only have four Costco packs left! (Thanks, Mom.)

Additionally, between moving and COVID and general stress, I’ve gained some weight, and I can feel it. I don’t feel capable right now of working on this, so I’ve been working on doing what I can to care for myself. Trying to add a fruit or vegetable. Not buying (so many) sweets. And of course Key always reminds me to go for a walk.

This stupid f***ing conclusion

I know there is nothing I can do about most of the items on this list except breathe, breathe, breathe. One day at a time.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.