'Ff'lo (fflo) wrote,

short day. dull post. fitting.

It's windy & pouring rain on my little eaglet friend, in W.Va., today. Baby eagle's hunkered down. It's cold and rainy here, too, today. Guess I could hunker. Been kinda hunkerin', though. A hunka hunkerin' goes a long way.

We have a new copy editor at work. All signs look good for her being pretty easy to break in, show the ropes to. And she's a sneezer, too. I like that.

Closing in on computer purchase time. Had been pretty convinced I'd be going iMac, what with more Mac for yer $$ & all, but now I'm looking at them notebooks again. Reading about solid-state hard drives. That's not a more-Mac-for-yer-$$ option, but it's a cool option.

In general I've been a bit down in the dumps. Thought it might be of a passing hormonal type. It may be hormonal, but it doesn't seem to be passing. Not real timely-like, anyhow.

Have a check-up tomorrow morning. I hate going to the doctor. This doctor is not a bad egg, or has not yet been one, but I hate it nonetheless. I hate the it of it and the anticipation of it.

I wonder whether the dread might contain some of that old familiar expectation that plagues are due to be visited upon me. Plagues have seemed due to be visited upon me as long as I can remember. Promised and prophesied, thoroughly and repeatedly, with the authority that comes from adamant repetition. Here I mean in general, with respect to my transgressions, vs. in physiological ways per se. On one hand I've learned that the threat of the inevitable terrible consequences of many of my transgressions has been greatly overestimated, if not invented outright, as of whole cloth; on the other, death looms. You know. Calls our names. "Psst," it says. Or whatever. So there's always that. Especially bad when it won't shut up.

But this anticipatory dread is maybe more from the way I lose my head at the doc's. It's like half my brain has to stay in the waiting room, and I'm in there trying to execute this appointment thing without it. I can't remember what I wanted to ask about if I don't have it written down. I seem to follow the conversation but couldn't repeat it to you two minutes after I leave. I'll think I've gotten an answer & move on, only to realize too late that the response didn't address the question at all. I don't like feeling so incompetent, particularly when I'm trying to be in charge of managing my "health care," as one has to do. It's hard enough without having to deal with a bumbling idiot such as the one I turn into.

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