So my lovely across the street neighbours Antonio and Ana are back! After having spent most of the pandemic in a small beach village to avoid contact with lots of people. Now they are vaccinated and back home. But OMG imagine my horror when I heard “Hola Shawn!” as I was sitting at my desk, balcony doors flung open, wearing my crappy PJs (the ones I work out in because “hey nobody can see me!”, not the other nicer ones that I can actually receive deliveries in) and I had to step out onto the balcony to say hello looking like god knows what (hair a mess, no makeup). I think I need to up my pyjama game, even on days when I’m not going anywhere.
“people gather round her and she finds it hard to stay alive”
Today I’ve taken a “day off”. And you may well wonder – a day off from friggin what?? – since I have no work, no daily routine, no nuthin that would normally create any semblance that might constitute a DAY. But the thing is, I’d been doing more or less well, sticking to my schedule and getting out there for my (almost daily) 10,000 step walks for the past (almost) two weeks. But today…?
Well, first of all I had another run-in with my crazy downstairs neighbour. When I first moved in (four years ago) she LOVED ME then soon decided to HATE ME (no idea why) and so that was weird. But since lockdown last March she decided she loved me again and things have been fine, with no longer having to try and avoid her when coming and going. Then yesterday she suddenly hated me again, accusing me of doing things I hadn’t done, leaving garbage on the doorstep, blah blah, followed by so many nasty whatsapp messages. And it made me very sad. I mean, I know it’s her problem, but dammit, I will never get used to hearing shitty things being said about me and it will never not me cry. It may sound silly, but my home is my refuge. If there is any tension anywhere in the place I live it affects me and hurts me. So, that was yesterday.
Then I woke up today. After having fallen down on my way to bed last night. I was taking Morcilla’s dish to the cupboard after her bedtime snack and then Loki got tangled up under my feet and I stepped on him (paw? tail? no idea) and he SHRIEKED and then I jumped back, holding the dish aloft in my right hand and lost my balance, crashing down heavily on my left side onto the marble floor. Holy fuck it hurt. I actually didn’t move for ages, trying to decide if any serious damage had been done. When I finally picked myself up (dish intact, cat food strewn everywhere) my left leg, elbow, shoulder, were in big time pain.
So yeah, I woke up today. With minimal damage it turned out, thank goodness, other than bruising and that feeling of vulnerability that happens when you’ve dodged a bullet. I mean, my god, I could have broken a hip or ankle, whatever. But although I was more or less okay I just lost track of everything.
So I didn’t go for my walk. And I’ve been loving those, dammit. In fact I didn’t go out at all, or even get out of my pyjamas. I feel trapped somewhere between the hate vibes rising up from my downstairs neighbour and the “one step away from disaster” feeling from almost having had a serious accident (though this also gets projected onto Covid and Cancer, which are still looming large for me). Result? I’m a fucking mess today.
And so… I decided to cook something challenging. My therapy. So far so good. Though it’s still hard not to just cry for “no reason” now and then. In the end, this will be just another day, and tomorrow… well, that’s gonna be another one. If I’m lucky. So if you’re feeling like this too, hey, you’re good. You’re not alone. We’ll get through it. xx
When I moved into my lovely Casa Azahar there were no light fixtures other that a really ugly fluorescent one in the kitchen (which sadly is still there) and the pot lights in the bathroom (which have since been replaced). In the end it took me a couple of months to replace dangling light bulbs with fixtures I both liked and could afford, and then my landlord sent his handyman Tony Black Hands over to install them. Then this week one of the bulbs in my matching two hallway wall lamps blew. So okay, I went to my local electrical shop La Casa de las Bombillas and got two new bulbs because I wanted to change the halogen ones the lamps came with (that get hot as fuck) to LED ones.
So fine. Mission accomplished. But when I went to bed that night and turned off the lights using the wall switch, well, this was as “off” as the new LED light bulbs got (see photo). Perhaps not quite as bright as it may seem in this photo, more like the glow of a night light. And well, I kind of didn’t mind this because I actually had to buy night lights when I moved in here because my bedroom is interior so it’s way too dark for me. But I wondered if this constant glow thing was safe.
Next day I went back to Casa de las Bombillas and they said they will order a different brand of LED bulbs for me to try, saying they sometimes work differently. But they also assured me that the glow wasn’t dangerous and used next to no current. So now I don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to pick up the new light bulbs mañana but maybe I like having extra night lights? Undecided. Especially as if I pull the cord under the lamp (and not just use the wall switch) that turns everything off. So, options!
I know what you’re thinking. How do I get through the day with such hefty issues to constantly deal with. Well stay tuned guys. At this point, after the whole Thermometer Thang, and now this, I’m not sure Casa de las Bombillas will ever look pleased to see me darken their doorstep in future. But wait till I tell them tomorrow about my LED bedroom ceiling light flashing randomly at all hours (forgot to mention this to them last visit). My pal Pablo has suggested a medium, but I’m hoping C de las B will have a more pragmatic suggestion.
