Regardless, I am at the cabin, and it is morning. I awoke in the night when it was still dark, and could hear an owl hooting somewhere nearby. It's such an evocative, exotic sound (if I'm using either of those words properly), and I did go outside and look up at the sky last night, hoping to see an amazing array of stars like we did on the night my Uncle Len started in on the devil and my Aunt Virginia wanted everybody to go back inside. But there weren't any. It was just black, like I was staring down instead of up. The only light inside the cabin was the screen of my laptop, having gone back to the DVD menu, and it would have been nice to sit myself down and write a paragraph or two (I was frankly lucky to even get five hundred words in yesterday . . . but believe me, I got a nap in just fine, since priorities are priorities), but I went back to sleep. It's the hottest part of the year, and I didn't even remember to put on a blanket--just closed the window directly above me, and pulled on a sheet.
I woke with the sun still low in the sky, but nothing like those times last year (or even the first time I came here this year) when it's just after sunrise), and finished my blog post from yesterday. Somehow, it's already a couple of hours later, and I haven't done much other than blog and quickly shower* and for the first time in recorded history, I didn't bring myself a donut for breakfast.
Donuts are, in my estimation, one of The Things that make life worth living. I had a list of my three favorite things a couple of years ago, when I gave up soda for a few months, and Pepsi was number two on it. Donuts fall somewhere lower than that, because there is a certain guilt factor associated with donuts, whereas sodas hold no such qualms for me (what, am I just going to walk around with a pounding headache the rest of the day? No effing thanks--especially when Coke Zero Sugar tastes fine to me now). But I have started to gain back some of my weight, and there are times when I look at my belly with my shirt off and think, "I'm just as fat as ever, regardless of doing over a hundred sit-ups a day."
So I eschewed the donuts for this trip, and will probably make myself a peanut butter sandwich for breakfast as soon as I'm done typing this.**
I know that, if I changed my diet completely, that my extensive (to me, anyway) exercise would pay better dividends. But I remember eating hamburgers in Los Angeles with lettuce instead of a bun, and I don't think I'll go back there, especially since the only person seeing me without my shirt on is me.
You may ask, Why do I do it, then? Well, that's hard to say. Part of it is that I have grown to enjoy the exercise, and a little part of my brain tells me it makes me healthier and getting in shape will keep me alive longer (or at least, make the end of my life a little less miserable, I dunno), but also, part of it--tied to the mid-life crisis that's GOT to be winding itself down soon, no?--is that I want to say that I at least tried. I tried to get in better shape, I tried to write romantic stories and stretch creatively, I tried to go experience the beauty of nature even though there was no one who would go with me, I tried to get used to seeing myself on camera, I tried to live just a little bit more.
In the end, it's not going to matter, I recognize that, but I am confident that, when I look back on Plague Year 2020, that I'll say I also lived a lot more during that awful year than I did the year (or years) before it.
It's now after two, and I just started writing. I felt guilty for slacking off--hadn't done any sit-ups today either--so I made myself do something before continuing my little weekend. I remember when I lived in Los Angeles, with a fulltime job and traffic every day, and how short and precious the weekends were . . . and yet there would be entire Saturdays where I never left the apartment, just slept and read and watched a DVD or something, feeling I had earned a day off. Now while I'm not sure I've earned anything (other than a good old fashioned ass-whooping from a burly redneck), these trips to the cabin are like a weekend all to myself, doing what I want, when I want to do it . . . or doing nothing.
I'm not great at doing nothing, but I've been known to dabble in the hobby.
Sit-ups Today: 300
Sit-ups In August: 5147
Words Today: 1066
Words In August: 27,235
*Turns out leaving the gas on did nothing to heat up water for a shower. Maybe I needed to turn on the water heater upstairs, but having never needed it in my previous trips alone (when I'm here with my family, they always make sure there's hot water), I didn't think about going about it. In fact, I only went upstairs once yesterday, to do some sit-ups (the floor down here is harder), and I found a dead bird--a pretty yellow one outside the door to the deck. Birds are always seeing the sky reflected in the glass and flying into them, once startling me real good because it was the window directly behind me. Still, it's sad to see such a pretty animal dead for no reason . . . and yeah, I'm a scumbag male because I acknowledge that I wouldn't have mourned for it much had it been an ugly bird. Please stop reading now.
**Of course I'm aware that bread is way up there on the list of Things You Should Not Eat. I even remember seeing a movie recently (was it one of the Jumanjis?) where the pretty model type said she hadn't tasted bread in years. YEARS. Would I give up bread completely, if I was told (by the mythical horned dude my uncle always talks about) that people would find me attractive in exchange? I don't honestly know, especially since I don't believe in the devil, so there's practically no reason to believe anyone would find me attractive. One of the videos I deleted on my phone last night, in an attempt to be able to finish my goddamn song before sunset was of me sitting in this very chair, having just got my new phone, trying to sing Someone You Loved. I looked so repellent in the footage that I gladly deleted it, and a couple of others, not catching the irony that I was freeing up space to record another video that has my face in it. Ah well.
No comments:
Post a Comment