Monday, September 16, 2013

Will It Go 'Round in Circles, Do Do...

If the earworm is planted - I know how old you are...
It's late Monday evening and I have exactly twenty four minutes before the obligatory family TV time wherein the male progeny and bipedal hominid also known as my spouse will convene in our living slash eating slash jockeying for rulership of the known world room and watch sinewy types fling themselves at obstacles in an effort to conquer something called "Mount Midoriyama"  If I were to hurl myself at an insurmountable object suspended over liquid t'would more than likely be some candied fruit perched on the lip of a frosted glass with a dollop of fattening confectious goo. If there's no chocolate involved, why exert the effort?
Today was a noxious mess of punitive audit type finger shakings and last minute financial napalm. My feral innards began sounding off at 9:00 and are still pummeling their soft selves against that barrier to freedom known as my breastbone. You see, for those of you who do not know, I am battling with incessant heart palpitations. Like so many toxic things in my life they were cyclical from 2007 until Thanksgiving Day 2012. Since that day - they are daily in blocks of 30 minutes to four hours to all day - every single day. Some days I power through and other days I simply crumble. It is why I am prone to cryptic Facebook updates and bouts of waffling on goals. The palpitations become so strong that I cannot concentrate fully on even the eminent issues which leaves nothing for things like goals, dreams, and making a healthy smoothie for breakfast instead of gulping down leftovers in a styro box.
I've been tested and retested and have been told that there is absolutely nothing wrong with my heart, my hormone levels or even my cholesterol. I've been offered a tiny pill which I bristle at the thought of taking. It's much like cavities. I never had one until about ten years ago. Then I got one and now I have six I think. So why cross the line, you know? There is one more option and that is a test for sleep apnea. I do snore but so does every one else in my casa so I don't see the point but I will dutifully trundle myself off with my stuffed unicorn and stripey jams tomorrow evening after another difficult day and attempt to sleep with sticky pads all over my person - knowing someone is watching....what if I scratch myself in my sleep? Sigh.
And so I've been trying to divert my attention to more productive things. In April I returned to writing a lot more poetry which I've only subjected my buddies on Writers Cafe to reading. I harangued my poor husband into making the tiny front room into an office, moving the progeny back into the Heir's old room and trying to stay out of the Heir's business. (I text him every day. He never answers. What's a nosey mom to do.) Tonight in an effort to siphon off some of that angst I thought I would attack the last bastion of pure chaos and streamline my "internet presence." Truth is I love blogging and blogger is a blog site so I think I will combine my multiple blogs here and inundate my Facebook Buds with inane posts. Why not glut the bandwidth with Tamjunk. It's a repeating loop and here we go round again. Maybe this time I'll stick to it.
Peace. I have to go get my spot on the couch - you know, the one that is form fitted to my..form.