Spin cycle update

The other day, when I was caught in the rain, the black from my glove rubbed off on me in a kind of purpley black. I thought that had happened again tonight…

Turns out, it is just bruising finally coming through on my palm

………

That’s two messages I sent to my mom tonight, after I’d gotten home.

I only went out briefly today, after having amassed a grand total of not even a thousand steps for the day by three p.m., in an effort to rid myself of my cabin fever and to get in some steps, all while carefully aiding my recovery by moving slowly but surely on flat surfaces.

I walked around Target for a bit, and was surprised to find it a loud and somewhat annoying environment.

So, I rather quickly left and went to hang out with my mom at the office where she works, so I also could work on some photos and use the Internet.

I made a quick and delicious pasta puttanesca again when I got home – with zucchini that I spiralized myself, of course – and then headed upstairs to get ready for bed.

Fortunately, I had already done it last night, so it didn’t take me long to figure out what all I needed on the first run (meaning super slow limping hobble) up to my floor, in preparation for the process of showering.

So, when I hobble back down to use the bathroom again in a bit, right before going to sleep, it will be only the second time I’ll have had to go down tonight…, which is much more ideal than the constant up-and-down I usually do each night.

Anyway, the point of all of this is really to share with somebody how my day was – lonesome a bit, but only in the send that I didn’t really have much of any physical contact today, and was somewhat surprised to find that it was all I really wanted, aside from ice packs… to have someone hold my hand, or lean against my skin somewhere, just to prove his or her existence and presence (and thereby love for me)…

I actually daydreamed about it… an arm or a thigh, just casually pressed against me, much like how a dog or cat will snuggle up against a person, when it wants to be nearby to sleep, but not necessarily to be pet.

I wanted someone to be with me in my room, so I could rest without worry, and know that I am being watched over and cared for…

My chest actually longed for the pressure of a hug or hand today, the feelings of slight panic taunting me ever so slightly… I wanted someone to quell the stirrings of panic within by his/her loving touch.

(And no, this is not at all in an erotic sense, but in a caring for someone, loving someone sense.)

But all my family is too far away for that, and my friends, too…, so I just daydreamed instead, breathing deeply, as is my custom, and going to walk around Target, so I could at least be around people, even if I had no loving touch from any of them.

Eventually, I got some love from my mom, but it was tiny in comparison to what I had been aching for all day, so it only eased the feeling temporarily.

It was nonetheless valued and valuable for me.

Now, I am home, carefully getting the rest of my steps before bed, considering the finally darkening spots around my body that are the near-only visible signs on my body of what happened last night…

And the palm of my hand looks like I’ve smeared ink on it somehow, again, just as it did when my glove got soaked in the rain… if only that were the cause of tonight’s “stain”… ::sigh

Anyway, I’m feeling better physically, but I’m really tired tonight… I’m thinking my body put forth a lot of effort today in dealing with healing, and so all the other little bits just put me over the edge baring exhaustion…

On that note, signing off for now, off to heal my body some more, and then discover more bruising in the morning. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

Sniffingly a homemaker

Walking through Target tonight, I found myself moving in a sort of comfortable, meditative state… It was late, and I was rather tired from the day… I took several times over the usual time it takes me to obtain an equal number and variety of items at the store… and I somehow didn’t mind it…  I guess this just supports my theory that I secretly – read ‘subconsciously’ – want to be a homemaker-housewife.  When I first moved into my own apartment several years ago, and then again in Japan (when I had to start from, basically, scratch), I felt a certain flow of mental chemicals that delighted me through and through, in a comfortable, this is where I belong sort of way whenever I was shopping for apartment-related items, house items.  And it isn’t to say that I belong only as a homemaker or anything, but simply that it is somewhere of many somewheres where I do belong.

Tonight was no exception.  I moved into a new home and with a new person yesterday, you see.  She has most everything that goes in a house, and I have very little of that sort of stuff, so the match-up is rather good on that front (not to mention that we actually get along really well in the first place, because that isn’t the point).  However, my whole OCD compulsions have me need my own cleaning supplies. —You see, it isn’t enough just to have cleaning supplies.  They must also be nice to the planet, nice to the nose and eyes, and themselves clean (their containers), while kept in a clean space.  Show me a bottle of cleaner that has been under a cabinet and has a thin layer of dust on it, and I won’t even touch it until you have cleaned the bottle.  I probably also with have slight inner daytime terrors of the fact that the bottle is dirty.  Anyway, back to the main point of this all… —-  So, I was at Target, seeking out these cleaning supplies for me for my new home.

I walked calmly, despite the inward thought of how late it must be.  I felt confidence every time I set down the basket and gave a once-over to a certain type of product.  I gracefully selected bottles whose scents I wanted to test, and euphorically sampled their natural essential oil-filled smells.  I smiled at each, and even mmm-ed a few, closing my eyes to embrace the scent.  I usually take my time with scents – I even stop to smell flowers much more often than is common, just to smell them and to indulge myself.  It’s alway sa bit of a bummer whenever I find flower bunches at stores that don’t even smell (or don’t smell good).  Whole Foods is one of those stores.

Anyway, so I take my time with (good) smells, enjoying them, allowing my brain to do any work it feels appropriate whenever it crosses a familiar scent.  I was told when I was quite young that scent was the strongest sense for recalling memory, and I’ve always kept that in mind for some reason, delighting in the silly scents that bring back memories.  (Like how the hand soap in this one bathroom in the house where I once nannied smelled like my grandmother on my dad’s side.  She hadn’t been alive for years at that point, and yet I had no doubt that it was the same smell that was usually on her, though I never seemed consciously to have noticed her having a specific scent before that moment.)

So, I was smelling slowly and comfortably, and enjoying all the familiar and new scents.  One in particular, though I definitely didn’t want it as a cleaning supply, was the replication of some regular smell from some point in my childhood.  I took a picture and sent it to my mom, telling her to go find one and to sniff it, so she could help me figure out why the scent is so specifically familiar.  It was labeled as being scented “radish”, however it was not merely the scent of radishes that was familiar – it was that specific combination.  Perhaps my mother had used that cleaning supply brand and scent at some point.  Though, I’m not too sure of that being very likely, because it seems to be a newer scent from this brand, and because it relates to a specific summer-type memory for me, as opposed to just lots of childhood cleaning days.  I’m looking forward to figuring out that one.  It might take me a little while, a few months’ even, but I am confident that, as with others in the past, I will figure it out.

Post-a-day 2018

 

The Ice Skating & Smelly Socks Affair

One day last winter (not the one that just ended yesterday, but the one from a year ago), my friend Stephanie and I went ice skating.  It was an indoor rink at one of the shopping malls in Houston, and we were both quite excited for the ice skating.  In a packed parking lot that seemed like it would never give us a place to park, we somehow landed a magical spot right by he entrance to the ice skating rink… and we hadn’t even known that that was where the rink even was within the mall.

So, we got our rental skates, left everything but our shoes in the car, and headed out into the ice.  After an amazing time being scared and silly, gliding around on the ice, we returned our skates.  However, upon doing so, we discovered that the skates had clearly not been very clean, as our socks smelled of something awful!

There was no way I was going to put those wretched socks in my shoes, but my feet smelled horrible now, too.  So, what do we do?  A Hannah plan.

We noticed a Target next door to the skating rink when we were coming in.  So, in our socks, we ran across the cold parking lot to the Target.  We bought a pack of socks to share, and found our way – this time indoors – back to the skating rink with its bathrooms.

We washed our feet in the sinks, one foot at a time, and carefully dried each one, before donning a new sock and putting on our own clean shoes.  The floors in the bathroom weren’t so great, seeing as they were designed for people to use while still in wet ice skates, so this was a very special balancing act.  Stephanie in particular struggled just to get her foot up in the sink.  I’m not sure, but we might have been laughing the entire time, making it that much harder to balance.

Eventually, we had clean feet in clean new socks, inside our own (clean) shoes, and we put the dirty socks in the Target bag in Stephanie’s trunk, tied tight.  I forget how she had worded it exactly, but Stephanie had said something to the effect of, ‘Hannah has the most insane ideas, and she makes me laugh.’  I definitely agreed with her, but couldn’t help but feel these sorts of things were somehow a normalcy for me.  ðŸ˜›
Post-a-day 2017