I think this is about day nine of the worst insomnia I’ve ever experienced.
I’m hoping this is the back side of it. I got up at 3:30 this morning and decided to drink coffee about 4, so I’m definitely up. Maybe a 19- or 20-hour waking period, coupled with caffeine cessation about noon, will help.
Frankly, it also helps to be on the back side of our latest Thing to Deal With. I hope we are done with the learning experiences and personal growth opportunities for a while. I know 2020 has been tough on most of us, but…
…sheezus fuck.
Yes, I know vaguebooking is obnoxious, and yes, I know I’ve been the king of it lately. I apologize. Some of you know some of it. It’s simply not an option to talk about most of it in public. However, I’ve felt unusually out of calibration for many months now, and I need you to know it so that you might please extend me grace when I need it.
(Also prayers. Oh man, prayers. [And to be clear, my family and I have no relationship concerns, or pressing health concerns.])
Some of these statutes of limitations are longer than others. There are pieces that will fall into public place over the next few years.
So, as they say, stay tuned.
So, 2020. (Dare I write about it with nine days to go?)
- I’m thankful no one at my house has gotten COVID-19.
- I’m thankful the pandemic has not threatened my employment, nor that of Lea’s.
- I miss real church. Oh, wow, do I miss it. I miss seeing my friends. I miss singing. I miss hugging my pastor and telling him he nailed it after an excellent message.
- I’m bothered that one son was denied a real first semester at Alabama. I’m bothered that the other has a girlfriend he can’t kiss, or even spend time indoors with.
- I lost my favorite local restaurant.
- We haven’t been to the beach in so long.
- I can’t believe they’ve managed to play as many football games as they have.
- I can’t believe how much money I’ve spent on upgrading my hand tools this year.
- I’m down 17 of the 45 pounds I’ve gained since the end of 2019, which I suppose is sort of like hitting yourself in the head with a hammer just so you can experience the pleasure of stopping. I can’t button any of my jeans, which means I leave the house in either khakis or sweats. January is get-back-in-my-Levi’s month.
I know many people are excited about getting the hell out of this year, which I was going to say makes no sense because the calendar is an arbitrary construct. 2020 doesn’t know it’s 2020, and neither does 2021. However, maybe there is some logic to it. If people think 2021 is going to be better, then they’ll probably make it better through their actions.
I canceled this year’s Precious Hearts Tour yesterday. I would be seeing so many different people in such a short time, and it would devastate me to make any of them sick. I had one engagement with a grade-school classmate I haven’t seen since 1986. I really don’t want to wait until Christmas 2021 to reschedule with my people. So bring on a world in which COVID-19 is scoped exactly like the flu, as in we think about it just as often. Annual vaccines, just like it? Sure, whatever.
Can we please have all of this worked out by this year’s Indy 500?
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