Well. I told Brats about my upcoming mutilation a couple of days ago. A spy was inserted. Someone not on the roster but in the class email was inserted.

I guess that’ll be my replacement.

I know it’s a couple weeks out still… well, 12 days really as of today… and wanted to give notice. Otherwise, I’d just keep taking up space in my head.

I’m trying to plot and get everything in order – or at least hit some of the ‘one day’ items that never seemed to be the day to do.

I mostly cleaned out the shed. That was on the list.
Closets are on the list. I want to make sure Jason is set up the best I can on the day of. So, that’s little things like laundry and cleaning. I want to put the Green Gobler or whatever down the drain. Dishes done. Lunches made, ect. Just the normal and usual stuff I tend to quietly obsess over during the week.

The yard is mostly out of my hands. But I’ll wipe down the siding at the end of this week or the beginning of the next, weather permitting. I hate to have spiders and creepy crawlies around by the doors.

Personally, it wouldn’t hurt to have a full facial wax. I’d love to spend some time in Nashville, walking around Indy, or just being outside while the weather is nice. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I walked the People’s Trail a couple of times a week. Sometimes I’d ride the bike.

While the bike is out, maybe I can walk it. Just some time to myself – some time to reflect – some time to pity and feel that deep-seated desperation of a life not lived, squandered, and wasted.

But during those times, I really feel so thankful for those who put up with my crap. I can’t help wonder why they do so. I probably wouldn’t talk to me if I was me. I’m thankful all the same.

Since I can’t make the Oct 16th appointment, I’m hoping Michael will have time to tenderize me before the operation. The increased blood flow and whatever might actually help the surgeons.

And, being an earth sign or just the way I am… the massage helps pull my mind and body back together. It’s a much needed grounding or I fly off in different directions and am scattered.

While that’s great for big brain thoughts, it doesn’t help with things like this.

Then there’s the ‘one day’ items that I continually promise myself over the years and never ever do. Finding that special emerald or sapphire. That one piece of jade or lapis lazuli. That one piece or outfit of beautiful and creative clothing. Horseback riding for an hour or two. Going off on a paddle boat. Going back to the Smokies or wherever – some mountain. Seeing the ocean again. Writing that book. Actually reading a book I’m interested in.

Although the last one may happen. If I’m laid up for a while, and I fully suspect I will be, I’ll need something to keep my mind busy, or I’ll just go insane.

Thinking about the risks – death, paralysis, multiple surgeries – that doesn’t bother me. It’s just another day. It’s expected. It’s tiring. But they’re there.

It’s kind of like preferring to be around negative people. If a person has mood swings, goes up, goes down, flight and flight kicks in. There’s an underlying tension and apprehension. Someone who is constantly happy is fake.

Negative risks aren’t hopeful. Apprehension breeds eternal, but not denying the negatives, not downplaying them, accepting them, removes that quivering hope that just may not happen. I’ll take the realistic view, thank you.

Between me and you, I expect to go a little insane anyway. . Probably a lot. I’ve been in these situations before, and they are hard. So hard. I’m getting old. My mindset is more fixed. Apple Pie Hopes are hard to come by.

But, if I go to far south, I know the hospital has a psyche ward. I was there just two years ago. Proudly kicked out of group therapy for questioning the system. They could easily put me back, I’m sure, if they looked at my history.

I’m going to be absolutely petrified of distracting Jason. Of course, his big test is the week after my mutilation. He’s got to do well. I hope he does. I’ll blame myself – my situation – my weakness – if he doesn’t.

Silly, I know, but that’s the way I am.
I don’t want to hinder him. I don’t want to be more of a drag than I am.

All of those years ago, I promised to meet him halfway.
And, maybe for a time, I kept that promise, for a while. But I feel like I broke that long ago.

So… yeah.
It’s yet another final countdown.