I wrote today’s dispatch yesterday and then decided to scrap it. This is something that I have never done before. It was just too negative a dispatch. In part, this was because my neck and head were hurting so much. It had seemed that as the day progressed, the pain increased. I was just going through the motions of getting done what needed to be done. I never do things in a haphazard manner, but when robbed of the ability to think, it must seem this way to my readers.

I wrote about my feeling conflicted about Pete’s getting promoted to full professor. I do feel disheartened because I was not afforded such opportunities. And I have felt like Pete never had my career interests in mind.

PJMS Students Volunteering

Yes, that’s what I wrote about. Like it or not, my life has spun off in a differing direction. I do have a job, but it does not pay. I need to find a way to make it pay. This is up to me. I can’t help but wonder if I am having a problem in this area because I don’t fully believe that I deserve to earn a salary. Does what one think matter? I haven’t a clue.

Most importantly, the here and now. I need to find a balance between my equine interests and my literacy interests, both broadly defined. Right now, the pendulum is swinging in the direction of my literary interests. There is always more to do on the project. I thought last June, when I began putting together the distribution center, that I’d have it all in order and that there would be no more work to be done. I was wrong, wrong, wrong. If anything, there is more work. And if I don’t do it, it is not going to get done.

I enjoy the sorting, categorizing, distributing – I have single minded intensity of focus. This is because I am obsessive compulsive. I am also autistic, low on the scale. The two, together are a double whammy. No one has ever remarked on this because I am doing something productive. If I spent my days sitting by a curb, making designs with rocks, I would be ripe for diagnosis and perhaps admittance to a psychiatric hospital.

I have put the pieces together and thought about my life-long obsessions. I will not list them because then readers will go aha and suggest that I (as they say) “get help.” I don’t think I need that kind of help. What I need are more volunteers. Yes, then I would have time to sit by a curb, making designs with rocks.

I pause. I can’t even remember what I did yesterday. My short-term memory is fried. How important is it, anyways? A lot of people I know lapse into wayback machine storytelling, particularly those who live alone. I myself try and avoid traipsing down memory lane because there is more to be said about the present than the past.

So there. Yesterday’s dispatch, today.

Next: 124. 5/5/24: Hrimfara’s Eleventh Birthday