I’ve always been indecisive, sometimes very indecisive, but never not indecisive. I wonder if indecisiveness is related to procrastination because I’m afflicted with both conditions.
I have worked on my novel a bit here and there, but I’ve been spending the bulk of my creative energy learning punch needle work and knitting up some old yarn into a blanket.
This here is my first-ever punch needle project. It was fun although I had some difficulties with the tools. I bought a kit, and the yarn provided was thick (and forgiving) wool.
I’ve since bought another kit but … surprise! … the yarn provided is cotton floss, what I would expect to use in embroidery. Because of that, I bought a different punch needle and now I’m scared. I’m intimidated by the project and am going to have to clear away a lot of space in my brain before I get to it.
Meanwhile, when the going gets tough, I go to my knitting. This here will be a lap blanket once it’s all done. The yarn is 100% wool and quite old. I either brought it with me from California thirty-some years ago, or I bought it soon after moving here. I can’t remember. In any case, the yarn has been stored in a cedar chest for many years. It’s past time it became something.
I have enough of the same yarn in different colors to make a second blanket. Times like this I wish I lived back where I grew up, in north-central New York where warm wool items are valued and used more than they are here in hot, humid Florida.
I procrastinate when I am waiting. But waiting for what? Good news? Is there such a thing?
Our 17-year-old cat Maxine has been wreaking havoc by peeing and pooping outside the litter boxes most of the time. We’re treating her for yet another UTI, but I think it’s her wobbly back legs and diminished eyesight that’s causing the havoc. I bought new litter boxes designed for cats with arthritis, and I have puppy training pads around them to catch any “overflow.” As well her kidney disease seems to have gone from a stage 2 to stage 3, according to her latest lab results. Fortunately, the steroids she’s taking keep her appetite up. At this point, the good news is that she still does her business in the vicinity of the litter boxes. She’s also still spunky, so two bits of good news.
My previous employer thinks I’m dead. Last month they refunded “the deceased policyholder” (i.e., me) for overpayment of my health insurance premium which had been automatically deducted from my pension, as it is supposed to be. I got it sorted out, but now it looks like it’s going to happen again this month. I can check my premium payments online so I guess the good news is I’ll be able to handle this before my premium is past due. Still, I don’t like being addressed as a deceased policyholder. Creepy.
My sister in New York is in a rehab hospital. She fell and broke her leg a couple of weeks ago. She’s been living with Parkinson’s Disease for several years, and falling is one of the symptoms. I’m struggling to find good news here. All I can think is how unfair it is that she, of all of us, has been saddled with this disease.
My sister has been a caretaker all her life. When our mother divorced our father (RIP), my sister stepped in and had him stay at her house when he came for visits (long story short: my father was mentally ill and during that time was living in a group home). When our father became ill, my sister pulled out all the stops to get him into a nursing home near her so she could visit him on her lunch breaks. When our elderly neighbor (RIP) was in failing health, she did the same for him.
My sister and I used to talk about how our mother would come and live with her. Our mother will be 98 in a couple of months. She lives independently and is in better health than my sister, so living with my sister is not going to happen. While my mom’s health is good news, I still struggle to find any good news about my sister.
All I have is this: she’s been married for 55 years to a wonderful man who loves her deeply. My brother-in-law is the epitome of “salt of the earth.” She has three sons who love her deeply. She has seven grandchildren who give her much joy and pride. This good news will have to do.
Thank you for
listening reading. I’m always hesitant to publicly write about my family, but, hopefully, I’m not crossing any lines here. Plus, I’m pretty sure few of them (if any) read my blog. Here’s a prize to all of you who have read this far: Raji in his “safe place,” which is our closet, on top of my husband’s clothes.
Marie A Bailey
Writer, blogger, knitter, cat lover, and introvert.