I’m actually not sick. I am tired. Tired, with a bone-deep tiredness, but not sick.
Well, I just had one of the worst eczema outbreaks of my life — please, no recommendations for treatment. I’ve had this since I was 1. I’ve tried EVERYTHING. One thing works, a medicated prescription cream (Triamcyclone, I think. I have a huge tub of it, but managed to pack it and lose it in the move — which is double weird, because it’s been years since I’ve had anything half this bad, and because low altitude usually stops my outbreaks.
On the other hand, the infallible trigger for my eczema is stress, and between the last few months of the move/fix and the house sale that was ratcheted up to insane levels. By the times things slowed enough, my arms were raw flesh AND infected there were outbreak patches in the middle of my back and some on my back thighs. And I didn’t want to go to the doctor again. (For one, I couldn’t drive. My prescription was way off, and I just got new glasses yesterday.)
But I don’t really count the outbreaks till they go nuclear, so the last two weeks. (But seems to be on the downstroke, now. And almost okay. I no longer look like I have critical burns all over my arms. At one time someone at comicon asked what the outbreak was. He was so kind of advocate for disability, and he was super impressed I was wearing short sleeves, with my arms as bad as they were. Meh. I don’t actually even notice it until it’s affecting my sleep, etc.)
I am tired, though. Boy, am I tired.
Some of this is I suppose normal, considering what the last year was.
But some of it is being super-tired of…. life in the last two years.
Look, when I used to visit Portugal for one or two weeks, it felt like I was spending time in “frustration land.” Anything, no matter how simple ran into delays, contretemps, parts not being available, waitstaff being dilatory (I realized I’d become completely American when I stood on a chair and made like a semaphore to get the waitress who’d been ignoring us to come to the table. The rest of my family who had been waiting for an hour groaned and hid their faces. I wasn’t even vaguely embarrassed. I might to have done it, to avoid retaliation, if what we were waiting for wasn’t the bill.)
I mean, stuff like “I need to buy a notebook” turned into an epic expedition over ten stores, and most of an afternoon because a store would be out of the type I wanted, send us to another, who swore they’d never carried it, then–
And I can tell you it wasn’t lack of familiarity. It was how you lived there. Someone made a comment about how much creativity it took to live in the USSR. Forget it, Jack, it took creativity to live anywhere but the US. You learned to make do, to haggle, to exchange favors. And when to ignore the law. (It was my inability to convince my husband to go the wrong way on a very short street that almost got our rental car wedged in the medieval part of Coimbra, to the point only a helicopter could get it out. Seriously. We managed to get out, but it took 3 hours of turning by inches. And he was like “How come this doesn’t happen to locals” Well, because no one cares about the one-way sign, that’s why. Yeah, it was PROBABLY a source of revenue for local policemen, but better than getting your car wedged. Back then you could bribe a traffic cop for $20 or less.)
It was a relief, like a massive weight lifted off my shoulders, whenever we landed in the US. No matter how crazy the airport, tight the connection, hassled the airport restaurant servers, we knew life had just got massively simpler.
I wish I could take a plane back to the US before people who think they’re universal experts started f*cking with everything.
It’s not even that there are shortages. It’s that the shortages are utterly random and unpredictable. And service? Yeah, there’s a shortage of employees in jobs that are mostly taken by women, and I assume that’s because after the covidiocy many women decided to stay home with the kids, which is a good thing. Statistics seem to indicate so.
But even short-staffed, there’s a curious lack of service in the “dead hours” of the day. And almost everyone I know who is working, their companies have cut staff to the bone and are abusing the remaining employees with crazy schedules and/or overtime. Because, well, yes, the companies are pinched (the war on energy does that) and therefore they’re trying to cut in human resources, as they always do. (And not the actual HR. If they cut HR efficiency and service might go through the roof.)
More importantly, “the way to do things” got broken during the covidiocy. Now you never know if you come in, if you do it from a distance, if they’re going to require masks (And some of us at this point get hypoxic at the thought of wearing masks) if they’ll have what we need in stock, if we’ll have to wait for months, if–
I’ve been trying to get an estimate for some simple work on this house for…. 3 months now. It’s– slow and unreliable. Not as bad as in Colorado, but still slow and unreliable.
And I’m slow and unreliable.
I’m tired. There’s the constant stress of knowing we’re now living in a coulrocracy (*government by clowns) and not knowing what they’re going to do next to fcsk things up for everyone. And no, they’re not making this easy by talking about “possibilities of nuclear war.” No, it’s not panicking me. It’s making me angry as heck, though. I wake up in the night punching something, and then have to apologize to husband or cat.
But it’s exhausting. It all is exhausting.
The new neo asked if everyone had aged 10 years in the last 2. In my eyes, most people, myself included, did.
It’s the stress, the not sleeping well, the waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Nothing is as harmful to the human mind and body as continuous uncertainty.
When will it change? I’m uncertain.
Can someone direct me to the waiting area for the flight to America circa 2017? Thank you.