It might be a bad idea for me to indulge myself like this, but what the hell.

I admit it : the noise from the construction goinon directly above me is starting to get to me. My ability to simply tune it out is beginning to break down and I am starting to feel it seeping through my defenses.

And that’s bad.

But perfectly understandable. There is heavy sawing and drilling going on up there and all that is separating me from it is a single thin ceiling and that’s just not enough.

Hopefully I will be able to rally and put my mental blinders (deafers?) back on and clamp them down tight, because it’s not like they are going to finish any time soon.

And I know how sensitive I can be to loud, irregular noises. So I am going to need to proceed with extreme caution lest I end up in some Aspie-like state of sensory hell, rocking back and forth with my hands clamped over my ears in whatever corner of this apartment I determine to be marginally quieter than the rest.

I mean, it’s not like I can just jump in the car and leave. Even if my legs still worked I would still be an agoraphobic shut-in who almost never leaves the apartment.

Basically, I leave this apartment three times a week and two thirds of those times it’s for medical reasons, meaning not exactly optional.

If my feet suddenly regained the ability to heal from injuries meaning I no longer has to trouble the (mostly) gals at Wound Care with my bandage changes, I would only leave this apartment once a week, and that would be for Denny’s on Sunday.

Ain’t that a sobering thought.

But I have to admit, because of the racket above, my idea of going to Gary Point Park and lying on the beach for an hour or two is sounded better and better.

This might be what prompts me to actually go through with it instead of just moping quietly in its generation direction like I do every summer.

I do miss going outside. I miss being outside. Going some place where I can lay on a towel or sit on a park bench to soak up the fresh air and sunshine sounds amazing.

Provided I wear sunscreen (SPF value akin to a coat of white enamel paint) and bring a ton of water and/or other beverages along, of course.

Because the sad truth is that I can’t just be a sunshine boy like I used to be when I was a kid any more. I would have to go out there with only slightly less protection than if I was going on an NASA spacewalk during a solar storm.

But still, the fresh air and sunshine would do me a lot of good.

Most importantly, it would make me feel a lot less trapped. I do not feel free in this cardboard coffin of a life and that’s a bad thing for my mental health.

Ergo anything that makes me feel more like I can go where I want and do what I like would go a long way towards brightening my days.

I mean for fuck’s sake, I only leave this bedroom three times a day. And of those three occasions, only the time I go out to hang with Julian and watch stuff while eating my midnight snack lasts more than a few minutes.

And you know what? Often, when it’s time to go to bed, a big part of me doesn’t want to go. It doesn’t want to go back in the box. It wants to stay out of this tomb of a room and be around people and maybe even live a little.

But habit and timidity drag it back in here over and over again. and each time I swear a tiny bit of me dies a little more.

I wish I could be alive again.

More after the break.

---

I’m in heat

But then again, aren’t we all?

Woke up feeling oddly warm all over my face. It’s like I went to sleep with my face on something warm like, say, a surface warm from the day’s sunshine, except that I didn’t and the heat’s not going away and so I am worried that I have a fever.

But I might just be dehydrated. I get that way at the drop of a (presumably moist) hat lately so dehydration is always a good candidate for whatever is currently ailing me.

Even if it isn’t the direct cause, it sure ain’t making things any better.

Datum : turning my head into the airflow from my desk fan does not produce the ecstatic relief I associate with having a bad fever.

In fact, I can barely feel it at all, which is worrying.

Admittedly, there’s not a lot of cool air for it to move around, but I suspect the real problem is that the airflow is no match for my fever’d brow.

When I lay back down, I will aim my bed fan directly at my forehead and turn it all the way up and see if that does the trick.

Hopefully that will quickly turn too cold and I will turn it down again. But what I fear will be the case is that I still will barely feel it.

We shall see. Science will give us the answers!

It would be ironic if I got sick because then I would have to miss Wound Care tomorrow morning and that would make two Tuesdays in a row I missed it due to illness.

People may start to talk about me.

Who am I kidding? Nobody gives a crap, including me.

You teach people how to treat you, after all.

Moodwise, I still have that isolated and alienated feeling like I am a lonely exile adrift in the Midnight Tundra of my mind.

Except no. It’s too directionless for that. It’s more like being stranded in some interdimensional doldrums where even time itself has stopped and I am utterly helpless to do anything at all.

Pleasant thought, n’est-ce pas?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.