I’m an idiot. I spend years cultivating playlists and then like it didn’t take any effort, I just delete the fucking things. I’m ready to kill myself, that much is plain to see. I’ve been hemorrhaging things to Goodwill all week. I call it cleaning, but I always give away too much. I get sick of seeing everything around me, accumulating dust because it’s unloved. I get sick of living with people who do worse, storing things for decades without using them.
What is the point? Why aren’t there libraries of things that I use infrequently? Maybe I should create one. A community share. Why does everyone need thousands of dollars in tools when you could share via a common store? I know not. Commercialism, I’m sure.
I have to shuttle people to and fro today. I’m displeased with this because it’s HOT AS HELL and I sit in the car, waiting for 45-60 minutes at a time. It’s a doctor’s appointment, of course. I could go in — if I want to wear a useless face mask. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it helps with germ transference, but I’m immune to COVID-19. I get it and I sneeze 1-3 times and that’s it. I don’t even have a fever. I know other people aren’t immune, but don’t y’all believe in natural selection? I do.
There are too many grouchy, aching human beings on this forsaken planet. Just die already if you’re miserable. Where is euthanasia when you need it? Of course, it should involve counseling before going through with it, but still. What if people are just ready to go? My ex-husband told me he wanted to die of a heart attack when he’s 50. (I’m curious to know if he still wants that.) He said he didn’t want to get old and fragile, if I recall.
Isn’t that awful? But that’s his decision to make. He certainly ate like life didn’t matter, which is one of the reasons we got divorced. I kept gaining weight exponentially and he didn’t want to feel good at the cellular level. He just wanted to die. In fact, he did die. Metaphorically speaking. And that is the absolute bottom line in our divorce: he stopped trying.
I don’t think I’m ever going to be old and fragile. My diet isn’t going to allow for that. I’ve been tinkering and honing it, trying to figure out how best to eat for my issues. God tells me bone broth (and meat on the bone) has kept me alive my whole life so far, so that part is a no-brainer.
Did I mention how excited I am that bleach is a thing? The bathroom I’ve been scrubbing at for months is finally almost sparkling clean. I hate stained grout, it makes me cross. I figured out the bottle of cleaner I’ve got is 98% water and 2% bleach, so I’m going to purchase some bleach concentrate today and just refill a spray bottle. I want to find one of the ones that has a power pump, honestly, because I have about 30 years of grime to kick to the curb. Once I’ve got all that sorted, I’m going back to environment-friendly cleaners, but I’m starting to think doing spring/fall cleaning with bleach might be a necessity going forward. Either way, I’ll mix my own.
One of the reasons I’ll mix my own is because I need a stronger concentrate than the spray bottle offers. I’ll also need eye goggles and a face mask, I know. But I’m enjoying watching the nicotine patina on the bathroom walls just drip away. I’m enjoying letting the air and the bleach whiten the grout over time, instead of requiring me to scrub and scrub. My hip is displaced so it hurts to do that, or I would. I love cleaning because I love when my place is clean. It fills me with joy.
Anyway, I must go play chauffeur now. Wish me luck in this 85 F weather. Maybe I’ll go to the store while they’re in the doc’s.
Angel-Sansara 