Needing a Better Day (or Thank God for Roses)

The kitchen sink has been clogged since Sunday.  Blah-blah to getting home from work after 11 pm to a night that went into the wee hours and then carried over into early Monday spent plunging, liquid Roto-Rooter blah, Drano blah-blah, a bottle of something else, blah-blah baking soda and vinegar trick, boiling water, salt, more boiling water, blah-blah, dish liquid and more boiling water, blah.  Snake #1 didn't work.  Snake #2 didn't work.  'Easily $40 wasted at this point, and so my day off Monday became more of the same and then cleaning the apartment to get ready for the building manager to come over--for the first time ever, so what a lovely first experience in our home.  And the wall I painted 1/3 black (BLACK!) and ended up not liking (not enough natural light for it, a story for another day) but haven't painted it over yet is--well, it just "is," and how wonderful that he got to see it in all its 1/3-painted (and-with-pink-roses-Wallies-pasted-on-too)!  Gah!  He worked on the sink a couple hours yesterday and got nowhere.  A plumber would be here "tonight or tomorrow."  Backing up:  I gave up on my day Sunday at 1 pm and let myself just sleep to escape.  I awoke at 4 pm Sunday to the news that Stuffed had fallen off his perch in his sleep "but seems okay" and did I know that while carrying containers of the stinky-not-draining-chemical-filled-water back to the bathroom sink to dump it into the sink there (since I was sick of the smell) that some of it had dripped and I had left a trail of bleached-out spots on the carpet leading through the kitchen, living room, and hallway?  (Well, I knew then!)  And it has been 80° inside the apartment even with our window air-conditioning unit going.  I'm not a heat person.  'Am mildly nauseous in it.  But windows open for fresh air while the sink is full of chemicals, especially for Stuffed, was my thinking Sunday and early Monday.  Gah!  'Decided Monday that obviously, we would still have our planned holiday meal, but what I cooked that I had loved so much New Year's Eve didn't taste at all the same to me Monday, and it involved both frying and baking in the ridiculous heat and humidity--and for nothing.  ('Not "for nothing":  Mike liked it, but this is a story of my trials and tribulations, so let's focus on me.)  ;)  'Decided later that what I really felt like was the rest of my endive with a simple oil and vinegar dressing, salt and pepper on top--yes, a lovely bowl of greens--but who was the dolt who used up all the vinegar on her read-about-online "no-fail" clogged sink remedy?!  So no endive.  And the store was closed, of course.  Dishes being washed in the bathroom sink.  Husband cutting himself doing the dishes.  21-year-old Stuffed peed on the living room floor yesterday for the first time ever.  'Such a worry anymore.  Will this ever end.   And in the midst of all this, to know that it's not only Memorial Day, but also Memorial Day during a pandemic and that that should be enough to keep it all in perspective for me and I should be grateful and happy for all that is safe, healthy, and good--and I *am* grateful and happy for all that is safe, healthy, and good--but it's still been a rotten few days, but that mental wrestling match keeps happening in my head anyway.  Bleh.  'Still waiting for the plumber, and I'm leaving for work soon.  Work is its own story, and it's one I won't tell, but as we all know or can imagine, days--now months--of masks and goggles are wearying.  I bought myself a big bouquet of coral roses yesterday before work, though, and that is a good thing.  This saga being what it is, though, I will also report that I didn't budget correctly and forgot that the bank was about to debit the electric bill money, so I now have $5-something in checking until I'm paid and another bill about to be debited from money-that's-not-there.  But. . .roses!  The ones out front are blooming too.  :)

Hearts and Flowers, or Up-and-Down Spring

'A perfect heart-shaped stone Mom found out in my garden this spring. 

Spring has been lovely, 

and now we move into summer already.  The oldest I've ever been and the fastest-moving year I've ever had, and I'm sure the two go together.  I turned 42 last month, my older brother is only five years from 50, baby Bianca "graduated" kindergarten last week, "little" Dylan who started kindergarten just yesterday has a girlfriend and is in high school this fall with his sister, a new niece or nephew is due any day now, I have been struggling for awhile now with what seems to be psoriatic arthritis, and all this to say time has been flying and I have been feeling old.  Bianca's cat ↓ captures my wary watching of the seasons as they change.  :)

'A thousand changes at work lately too, which have made for a stressful spring.  As Lisa over at "Searching for a Balance" knows, balance isn't something you find once and cross off your to-do list, but instead something you have to re-find over and over every day.  I found the below heart on a table at my workplace one night this spring and had to laugh.  When a paper towel-piece heart randomly appears on a worktable, I have to take it as a reminder to "be still and know that [He is] God," right.   So I adjust to the thousand new changes and plod onward. 

And get a haircut that is way too short--where is my wild mass of curls!!!??!!  GONE!  I now have the smallest sprig of them, like an unruly paintbrush perched atop my head--

 --then I find a heart in my hummus and chips and chill out a little more.  Again. 

I made it home around Mother's Day and Father's Day so got to see both my family and my roses--Louise Odier is in bloom this very week!  ♥--and those things alone end this up-and-down June on a sweet note.  

Heaven on earth!  And the scent!!  ♥  I made a small bouquet of these and my white Iceberg roses for my sister-in-law Sunday as she works her way through her final days of pregnancy.   To her, the days are probably not moving along quickly enough.  

'Another perfect heart Tuesday afternoon, this one as I was waiting for the bus back to the apartment post-visit home.  And tomorrow, it will be summer.  Ay yi yi.  

♥

Photo-Heavy, Heart-Heavy

Nightmares plague me in my sleep, one after the other, and despite the walks, the vitamins, the distraction of work, the talks with Mike, the donations made, the healthy meals, the frosting-covered treats, the focus on kindness and beauty, the books read, the magazines curled up with, and the visit home to family, the days continue to be hard too.  In many dreams since the 27th, I am being chased and am running for my life.  In one, I was hiding with Stuffed in a closet from a violent man who had just cut someone's hand off in front of me before I had escaped, and Stuffed and I were waiting it out until I thought he had given up on hunting us and we could climb out a window and run farther from him.  In another, I handed a small gift-box to a friend at work, and it was only when she hesitated to take it from me that I realized that she was Jewish and was afraid I was tricking her by handing her a box that contained a bomb.  Then the dream changed and I knew there was, indeed, a bomb inside and that we were in danger.  In one dream I didn't remember more of upon waking, Mike had told me that we would be okay but would need to stick together and be careful.  In one last night, I was standing on the boardwalk in my beloved Ocean City when I suddenly knew that the stranger beside me had it in for me and I needed to leave, and to leave quickly. . . .Knowing there are so many out there who have lived actual nightmares and mourned real losses of friends and family these past two weeks only makes me sadder.  

The day I caught the bus home to visit my parents and brothers, I walked out of the apartment only to find a news crew filming an interview a few steps from my front door:  One of the victims' funerals was being held across the street that afternoon.  (I had known that but hadn't expected to see news cameras in my front yard.)  The first time I visited the synagogue to leave my flowers, a newswoman who said she was from Denmark asked me how I was doing and a few other questions, and I awkwardly made my way for home soon after, uncomfortable talking at all, let alone while her partner filmed.  Maybe in awhile, when the news is paying less attention to this little part of the world--and being realistic, that will be when the next big gun violence story "steals" the spotlight--that will help some, I don't know.  A peace rally to honor the victims will be held this Friday, and I plan to attend, and maybe that will help some too, and again, I don't know.  It sounds like something that might feel like a step forward.  I have a growing list of letters to write--the mayor is on that list--and gestures of gratitude and recognition to pass along--the local police and the nearest funeral home are two on that list--and maybe getting those things done will help some, as well.  I want to give, give, give but feel fairly depleted these days.  

This is my favorite season, but the juxtaposition of the memorials and police tape with the stunning foliage and (all the flowers and) fall light has made the past two weeks even more jarring.   Relatedly, it has been mentioned over and over again that the site of the shooting was also quite literally the real "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," since Fred Rogers lived just three blocks away.  On the afternoon of September 11th, 2011, a fellow teacher and I were driving home together since our classes had been dismissed early, and while we listened to the news on the car radio and talked some along the way, all I remember of the commute home was how brilliantly blue the sky was.   And now when I remember the shooting and these weeks that followed it, I will remember how the morning I took my roses to the synagogue was the prettiest morning I'd seen yet that fall and how striking the fall colors were that year.  This is just life, of course.  And it goes on, as the saying goes. 

♥