Yeah, I'm all yawny, despite getting a good chunk of sleep. And yesterday afternoon I *so* was ready to snooze off at my desk.
We had a Tuesday evening chorus rehearsal last night, in the sanctuary. Something that smelled a lot was being done downstairs. I decided I probably will stay offstage and not participate in Love Potion #9, which should be easy enough, the way the show is structured. It's mostly cuz I just don't wanna be one of the starting-kissing-everyone-in-sight people, and we've gotten as many tweaks to that lyric as they'll allow. (It makes it worse, to me, that the director recently decided on a sudden change in volume to a whispery piano when the protagonist starts kissing people--- it was presented as being for dynamic variety, but it comes off like he [yes it's a he POV] knows he's doing something wrong and is doing it anyway.)
The other benefit of sitting out the song is that I don't have to refine my memorization of it. Happily, we have relatively few songs to learn this time. This is good cuz it's been extra cluster-fucky, in more ways than one.
Seems like the main thing in my mind for the rest of the week is the hunkering down and minimizing time outside yet taking care of the dog's need for relief and thing-smelling and exercise best I can. We'll probably do a fair amount of fetch from one end of the living room to the dining room, and vice versa. And going outside will be a little like the astronaut thing, with special duds and keen awareness that it could kill ya, what's out there, if you don't pay enough attention.
Sort of an unfortunate reality for one's hypervigilance and anxiety, I reckon. Like a paranoid person having an occasion of someone actually out to get that paranoid person, at least a little. Yet it's nice to have amped-up gratitude for simply being inside a heated structure. Shelter against the cold, not as some metaphor but in itself, raw and fundamental and real and animal-basic.
Meanwhile, it's hard not to notice a string of whacko Trump tweets. And I've got a potential awkwardness with my fellows that involves my physiological limitations and butts into crappy body-shaming stuff, and loved-one realities that feel shitty, especially when fat's in the equation. It's like there's no escaping being reminded all the freakin' time (speaking of exhausting) of how fat's regarded by by-far-most folks in my world, in this country, etc.
I think, yet again, of the Golden Rule. The Golden and so often unobserved Rule--- it really is a fabulous Rule. Perhaps I shall meditate on that in coming frozen days, as well as the concept of avoidance as the root of many problems, which is already kickin' around in me.