GreenAcorn of Simmer
Aug. 7th, 2018 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoVoting was the main accomplishment today. Not that it takes much effort. I went out in the morning, shortly after the polls were open, and walked to my voting place. We've been lucky to live within walking distance of the polls in most of the places where we lived. My favorite spot was the old fire station where we used to vote in Pennsylvania. That's where I served as a poll watcher in 2008. Even in Texas, we could walk to vote at first. Then they moved it to someplace where we had to drive, which was never much fun in TX.
I often smile at Ursula K. Le Guin's description in "The Lathe of Heaven" of "the French diseases of the soul," which she enumerates as "umbrage, pique, and ennui." However, I'm a bit surprised that with the birth name of Kroeber, she didn't catalogue the German diseases of the soul as well. They're much more grandiose and come with capital letters. It's not enough simply to suffer fits of rage and gloom. They must be epic fits, worthy to be hailed as Gotterdammerung and Weltuntergang. They are cosmic and multisyllabic. And then there are the much more prosaic problems such as gut cramps and belly aches. For French people, the seat of the soul may be the liver. For Germans, it's definitely the digestive system, and what an uneasy seat it is. All of which is just my fancy way of saying that I'm not only depressed, but having stomach problems. But, in very typical German fashion, I can't just say that. I have to create a philosophical undergirding with Urquellenforschungen! (Research into the primary sources.) It's a good thing my Irish side has a sense of humor.
I'm sure the primary sources have something to do with the fact that I'm on deck to take my mother to Wound Care tomorrow, so I'll be making the usual day-long trek, accompanied by sandwiches, snacks, water, hot tea, and a blanket. It's not that I don't want to see my mother, but this medical expedition has just become such a production that it fills me with dread. The Duchess has been putting leggings underneath Mother's pants, and having her wear a stocking cap and two sweaters (yes! in this 90 degree weather!) in the hope of stopping her from getting a chill and going into some kind of shock after an hour at the clinic. Plus I'm supposed to clean her hearing aids, which I don't know how to do, and try to fix her computer, and take all the old messages off her phone, make sure to give written instructions from the doctor to the staff, and I don't know what all. I just have to keep thinking that this time tomorrow, it will be done and I'll be back home. The appointment is early enough in the afternoon that we should be able to get home. We have various things to do at home, so I'm not going to request shelter from Deb, much as I would like to see her.
I often smile at Ursula K. Le Guin's description in "The Lathe of Heaven" of "the French diseases of the soul," which she enumerates as "umbrage, pique, and ennui." However, I'm a bit surprised that with the birth name of Kroeber, she didn't catalogue the German diseases of the soul as well. They're much more grandiose and come with capital letters. It's not enough simply to suffer fits of rage and gloom. They must be epic fits, worthy to be hailed as Gotterdammerung and Weltuntergang. They are cosmic and multisyllabic. And then there are the much more prosaic problems such as gut cramps and belly aches. For French people, the seat of the soul may be the liver. For Germans, it's definitely the digestive system, and what an uneasy seat it is. All of which is just my fancy way of saying that I'm not only depressed, but having stomach problems. But, in very typical German fashion, I can't just say that. I have to create a philosophical undergirding with Urquellenforschungen! (Research into the primary sources.) It's a good thing my Irish side has a sense of humor.
I'm sure the primary sources have something to do with the fact that I'm on deck to take my mother to Wound Care tomorrow, so I'll be making the usual day-long trek, accompanied by sandwiches, snacks, water, hot tea, and a blanket. It's not that I don't want to see my mother, but this medical expedition has just become such a production that it fills me with dread. The Duchess has been putting leggings underneath Mother's pants, and having her wear a stocking cap and two sweaters (yes! in this 90 degree weather!) in the hope of stopping her from getting a chill and going into some kind of shock after an hour at the clinic. Plus I'm supposed to clean her hearing aids, which I don't know how to do, and try to fix her computer, and take all the old messages off her phone, make sure to give written instructions from the doctor to the staff, and I don't know what all. I just have to keep thinking that this time tomorrow, it will be done and I'll be back home. The appointment is early enough in the afternoon that we should be able to get home. We have various things to do at home, so I'm not going to request shelter from Deb, much as I would like to see her.
perspective!
Date: 2018-08-08 06:44 am (UTC)so sorry about your gastric distress. may it resolve effortlessly.
Re: perspective!
Date: 2018-08-10 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-08-08 12:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-08-10 03:37 am (UTC)