blog as you are: tracy kaply

Tracy Kaply, today's Blog As You Are blogger, recently moved from Seattle to Joshua Tree. I'm planning to visit her there soon. I'm expecting dumplings and pie. 
 

From what I know of Tracy, this T-shirt says something snarky.

Since I have kidney failure and a panoply of other chronic/terminal illnesses trying to kill me, I don't work, and I am naturally a sedentary creature. So today I committed myself to writing down exactly what I was thinking about at each time the alarm went off. Don't worry, I am properly medicated.

8:20 am Woke up. Assessed situation. Pondered methods of killing birds right outside the window. Decided I was too old to be up this early without a damn good reason. Cat agrees, so we go back to sleep. 

9:20 am Fine, I am awake. Cat simultaneously wants me to to get out of the queen size bed, because there isn't room for both of us in here, and he wants me to lay very still so he can be on me. I am starting to think the cat is my penance.

10:40 am Madness In The White City. HH Holmes, and Erik Larson's Devil In The White City. Good stuff. If I am a monster in a human suit, I should get ALL the cookies.

Tracy wakes up thinking about serial killers. Don't worry, she's medicated.

Noon I have no dialysis today, so I am lying on the couch and having an argument with myself about who is gonna get up and make me some lunch. It wouldn't be an issue if the god damned cat would pitch in. 

1:45 pm Uncertain if I won or lost the lunch argument, I made dumplings. They stuck to the steamer. I am so filled with hate. And pork.

Kato, the cat who would not make lunch.

2:15 pm I think most stuff is crap. People don't want to do anything strenuous like, you know...think. Also, this day could be vastly improved by a fruit pie, and if I hadn't stayed up so late researching The Troubles, I might not desperately need the nap that is heading my way like runaway livestock. 

4:30 pm The good about naps: there is something cozy and luxurious about sleeping during the day. The bad: that moment of crippling paranoia when you wake up but keep your eyes closed trying to figure out where the fuck you are. 

That might just be me, that last.