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| Beefsteak tomatoes, like in the sandwich the missus made. |
The morning started nicely enough with watching The Arsenal on the telly. They defeated Brighton, 2-0. Then it was a nap. The late morning nap on weekends is not unusual for me. The wife and I then went grocery shopping. She dropped me at home to do some more shopping. Feeling ambitious I cleaned the toilet, took out the recycling and cleaned the bin that we put our tin, bottle and plastic recyclables. I then washed two loads of clothes.
Completing these chores made me feel better though not enough to relieve the depression. A movie seemed in order so I looked over my extensive DVD collections (about 250 titles) and finally selected Moonrise Kingdom, directed by Wes Anderson. It’s harder for me to watch foreign language films when depressed and it’s better for me to watch something relatively light. MK was the perfect choice because its a brilliant film that gets better with each subsequent viewing.
During the film the wife brought me a delicious snack — a fried egg with a slice of beefsteak tomato on toast. My darling bride of 30 years also informed me that she’d at last gotten around to reading my blog posts from our Europe trip of a couple of months ago. She really enjoyed them and made a point to tell me that I’m a really good writer. Her praise means more to me than anyone else’s because she is a tough critic. I love her.
Finished with the film I went back to chores by emptying and re-loading the dishwasher and filling my pill organizer for the week. I take enough meds that I require one. Pill for sleep, pill for panic, pill for depression and one for acid reflux. All but the pill for depression do the job. The psychiatrist and I are working on that. I actually hate taking pills and balk whenever one is prescribed. But I also believe in following doctor’s orders and the results speak for themselves. I appreciate the fact that I’m no longer kept awake by acid making its way up my esophagus or by insomnia. I also have been free of panic attacks for nearly a year with just a handful of anxiety attacks.
Next up was the Sunday New York Times. I no longer read it cover-to-cover. I do miss the days when I read two or three newspapers a day but I appreciate the convenience of getting my news on the internet. Progress.
Finally I started writing this. I’ll finish in a bit and then do my second set of stretches for the day. It’s important for me to stretch on non-running days. Then I’ll crack open a book and read for a bit. Later I’ll dive into season four of House of Cards. I started watching the series from the beginning after we got back from Europe getting through an episode a day on average. However the Vietnam War documentary series on PBS (which I wrote about in my previous post) kept me away from it for nearly two weeks.
Eventually it’ll be bedtime as this melancholy Sunday winds down. I’ll struggle out of bed in the morning (I assume here that I won't die in my sleep) and it’ll be off to work. I’ve no idea how I’ll feel. Of course, I’m depressed on some days and on others I’m “up” and there are even some days when I feel quite average and my mood leaves itself open to events of the day.
It seems I’m drawing to a close in this writing. I rather hate to stop because its distracted me from my depression. When I do stop I might try to find something to do. That may be impossible. I could be too low to manage a thing. It might be just a matter of sitting and staring at a spot on the floor. The wife is running errands so I don’t have her to help prod me.
Well I’ve got to stop now regardless and the last thing I write is that I hope for the best for the rest of this day and try to remind myself I have a rich and wonderful life.
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I resume this writing on Monday. I’m between classes. I slept well. In one dream I was a member of the Seinfeld crew. I was the lone witness to George fighting of a group of teenaged assailants. Maybe I’ve watched too many Seinfeld re-runs.
My morning commute was relatively uneventful. I had the best of Simon and Garfunkel on my head phones and read some Thomas Wolfe short stories. At one point the word sparrow appeared in a song just moments after I read it in the book. Who says there’s no such thing as a coincidence?
Of course I woke up this morning to news of the mass shooting in Las Vegas. The saddest thing is how unsurprising these horrific events have become. The impotence of the outrage is also frustrating. Nothing seems to get done, nothing changes. My students — who come from all over the world — are baffled by the ease with which an American can buy a gun and the failure of our legislative bodies to provide reasonable gun control laws. Even coming from other continents they are aware of the NRA, that heinous organization that enables gun slaughter in this country.
My morning class went very well. They are a wonderful group of people. Most every class I’ve had here has been comprised of sweetie pies. I categorize my classes as follows: good, very good, excellent and oh-my-god-I-want-to-take-them-home-with-me. I get a lot in the latter category and very few that are merely good.
I’m about to go eat lunch. I’ll finish this writing and maybe even post it on the blog. If you’re reading this it means I did. If you’re not reading this than how do you know what I’m saying?
After my afternoon class — another group of darlings — I’ll hightail it out of here and head for the gym. Following a brief weeknight workout I’ll return home and make a smoothie and watch Last Week Tonight starring John Oliver (my favorite show on TV) with the missus.
Hearts out to the people of Vegas. Hope against hope that there’s a change a comin’.
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