I grow less enchanted with
behaving appropriately
the longer I get to practice it:
paying bills on time;
keeping track of appointments;
apologizing when it really is my fault;
cleaning house, routinely;
wheeling out garbage pails
on the right pickup day;
cleaning house,
(and I know I said that, but I really don’t like it)
remembering who’s missing and knowing
there’s nothing I can do to replace that laugh
but simply remember it
and let the tears roll down onto my smile;
adapting to technology
while simultaneously collecting massive numbers of
pens & notebooks from every vendor I come across
at every class I attend
to keep my professional licenses
so I can continue to pay the routine debts,
like auto insurance;
finding new auto insurance
because the company that managed the policy
I held for twenty years closed one day,
and I and many others were notified
via real mail
that WE would be without coverage in three weeks
unless WE did something IMMEDIATELY, so I
mentioned it on Facebook (I’m so
computer savvy),
and the woman who handles my house and etc. insurances
said her company could handle my car insurance;
and eye exams
because the glasses I’ve had for three years
appear to have lost their pizazz
and I miss some of the words
in the important announcements,
on-line and in hand,
regarding all parts of my life;
and how about a hearing-aid review,
because with new smallish phones
and fast-talking younger worker-bees
and soft talking geezerish-second-jobbers,
one needs to be able to hear all sorts of things
one might not really be interested in
but might need to own/have/use/get at some point.
Taking meds on time,
a behavior and idea that sometimes comes under scrutiny
because I’m not sure how much longer
I can tolerate the idea of responsibility
since I’m the only one left,
which gets me to old images of
working in a nursing home
and seeing what happens when one can’t
which used to scare me, but now,
with enough medication,
given as ordered,
perhaps one won’t care.
After several noisy meetings with
my alter-egos, held while
driving, cleaning, bathing,
trying to sleep, and pretending to listen
to reasonable therapists,
I have accepted the option of
rewarding myself for crossing barriers
and continuing to make trouble as able.
Routine breaks include:
cookies,
sushi,
cereal directly out of the box,
chocolate in any form
and cheese (as above),
more time with great and weird old friends,
books, books, books (real ones),
consciously making wrong dining choices
no matter what the outcomes were
on the last set of bloodwork,
being irreverent as often as possible,
resting the ego and being irrelevant at times,
dressing in whatever works
at that time, and not considering
the idea or guidelines of age-appropriate.
At all.
I am much nicer than I used to be,
and my sense of humor is better.
Adulting: talk to your mirror and see.
