Things grow to occupy the available space. They just do. I'm off work/school, sure, but my house isn't immaculate (yet); how much caffeine would it take to get it spotless and keep it spotless? More than I have the capacity to ingest. Probably.
With no notice that I specifically recall getting (but - who knows? The emails, they crash like waves and it becomes increasingly hard to differentiate between or comprehend them.) the student insurance is no longer covering dependents and I missed the window to continue L's health benefits from Starbucks with COBRA so here the fuck we are, I guess. I hopped my geriatric ass on the healthcare.gov portal and filled it out until we got to the part where I need S's income information. Mine's pretty easy: I do not currently make money and do not, currently, anticipate making any more in 2025. There! Done. *sigh* I do understand that there are some drawbacks to universal healthcare, but really? Lol, not to the extent that makes me not want it.
Right now I'm post-drop-off (it's been going better; but three negative-ish things happened during drop-off and then I felt like a monster), post-trip to the University library for printing, post-hot yoga class (good, but I felt even more monster-ish because I didn't know how or where to sign up and wasn't technically on the waitlist and other people were, but everyone made it into class anyway so it was fine), post-finishing dishes for the morning, post-starting laundry, post-making the list of ingredients I need to make potato lasagna tonight, post-plugging in the schedule I just got from my CI, and post-tech rehearsal for this one show I'm in this weekend.
It felt so nice to be home again, in the burlesque space. I feel lucky to still be "allowed" to perform and do what the fuck ever I want on stage! And I am lucky all of the time. But it doesn't always feel like it, you know?
I was behind a woman with a shirt that said "Child of God" on the back and referenced a psalm (unclear on which one; my dyscalculia makes it difficult to retain numbers and number orders). It reminded me of that one time I went to Sedona and got a 90 second reading from someone who said they talked to...fairies? I have no further intel on the what and why of all that, but she did say that they wanted to reassure me that I am a child of God. That makes sense, retroactively, in a way; I've always had lots of anxiety around the concept of predestination (which I was raised with) and fear of powerlessness and pain and going to hell. Maybe it was just a little: "Shush. Do your best. You're okay. Just do your best."
And I'm trying to do my best. Even if my best is not all that great.
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