If you’ve been reading this regularly you know I’ve struggled. So I’m not going to waste time on the various problems. They’re not that interesting and I don’t have a wry or philosophical spin to make them (somewhat) entertaining.
Instead I’ll tell you about today’s Good Thing.*
I got my covid booster.
Which, while a good thing certainly what with summer reading coming soon, doesn’t seem worthy of the capital-G Good capital T Thing. But it is.
Because after last week’s negative experience when almost everything exhausts me and makes me just want to board up my windows and nail shut the doors, just leave the deliveries on the porch and I’ll see to them later long after dark thank you — am I still in the original sentence, geez o’ pete I can’t write for sh1t today . . .
Anyway, I tried to get the shot last week, appointment and everything, and it was a massive fail that ended with me acting like a total nutter in a local pharmacy. Fortunately I don’t want anything to do with that store, or the whole nation-wide chain actually, so I don’t have to wonder if my pic is posted behind the counter with a note to call the cops if I ever try to get another vaccine there.
Unfortunately this linked “getting the booster” with “panic attack” in my head. So all week I’ve fretted about not getting the shot and how will I get it and I really need it because people are full of covid cooties not to mention the stomach bug and strep that have been going around not that the covid booster can do anything about those.
It’s not the Escher-designed hamster wheel of infinite anxiety that I’ve broken myself on in the past. I really think the cbd oil is helping with that. But it’s still unpleasant, kind of a soul equivalent to the week I kept dropping hammers and tables on my foot. There’s an old Looney Tunes or Merrie Melodies with a contraption like a ship’s wheel with a boot on the end of each rung(?), spur(?), I dunno what they’re called. And as the wheel spins each boot kicks the backside of probably Elmer Fudd or an Elmer-esque baddie. Or maybe it was Tom & Jerry.
So like that, but being kicked over and over and over and over and over and over in the psyche.
Thus (because I started the last paragraph with “so” which is bad form anyway plus “thus” sounds fancier) getting a basic vaccine booster became fraught with all the anxieties. Just walking into a pharmacy I didn’t know existed and saying “I need a covid booster. Here’s my CDC covid card.” And then just . . . sitting down and deciding to do the right arm this time and that’s all.
It was big. It shouldn’t have been, but it was.
Tomorrow I’ll whine a little about how sire my arm was when I rolled over in my sleep. But it will just be the social convention.
p.s. Oh right, the post title. It’s related to the week’s bonus stressor: unexpected car maintenance (aka “That’ll be $600.”). I was super tired and worried and spacing while driving home one night and I saw 111111 and thought it was an even worse malfunction light than the one I already had
and then I realized I was looking at the odometer and that was the mileage.
Which is a ridiculous yet accurate analogy for the week.
*No, I haven’t kept up with this regularly since Lent ended. I was barely maintaining it by Easter. But I do think it’s a good idea and I am trying. You know, when I remember.
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