A very quiet Xmas over here, as M had the flu and I am still where I've been for months so it was just the three of us and a pan of mostaccoli from the Italian deli and some garlic bread and a salad my mother in law made for us.
Everybody slept late and we exchanged a few small gifts and I hobbled into the kitchen to make raised yeast waffles for brunch (aka best food EVER) and we called all of our relatives and mostly rested on the sofa and watched movies so all in all it was a low key and CarbOlicious holiday.
It's strange how once this season is over it's like someone pulled your body out of a torture rack or a boiling cauldron and the relief is immediate.
Still, social media was full of elaborate roasts and insane piles of gifts and hugs and booze and holiday sweaters and it all looked very lovely out there in the electronic version of the real world.
Everyone went to bed early so I unplugged the tree and read Errantry by Elizabeth Hand and tried to find a comfortable sleep state which is a sweaty, sweaty business.
I dreamt I was back at work and it was a good feeling to be active and MOVING in my dream. At some point I recall being admonished for taking too long to get back and asked if I could still perform my essential job duties so clearly it was an anxiety dream which most of them are, anyway. It certainly lacked the impressive symbolism and general panache of my usual sleeping life. It looked a lot like my AWAKE LIFE.
I am back in compression wraps and Googling walking canes and talking about needing a house without stairs which is not a good sign. NOPE.
A Body of Work
13 hours ago