Yvonne deSousa's Blog, page 7
January 18, 2021
If Slipper Fuzzies do you in, you might have Multiple Sclerosis
First, I slept through 2 morning alarms, I’m pretty talented this way, and didn’t wake up until 10. It’s not a record for me, but I’ve been working harder to keep more normal hours.
Next, I saw several black things on my floor that I feared were bugs.
(This happened once. Something went wild in the ant world and I awoke to an intrusion of some sort and there were ants everywhere! The whole thing still gives me the creeps.)
Then I remembered something I thought I’d noticed the night before- my slippers seemed to be shedding. I’d bought these slippers late in November and I really like them. They are warm and super comfy. But now, just two months later, they have a hole in them, and they were shedding black/gray fuzzies everywhere.
There were fuzzies in the kitchen and in the living room.
There were slipper fuzzies in my bedroom AND in my bathroom.
There were even fuzzies in my shower! I don’t wear slippers in the shower so how could that possibly happen?????
Oh well, I thought as I went to turn on my computer and start boiling water for tea. But the computer was not cooperating. 
First, it was ridiculously slow.
Then it booted me out of the internet once I’d opened all my favorite sites. I restarted it which made it slow again. I was almost done with my tea before it started to act normally. While I sipped and waited, I noticed more fuzzies in my little apartment. Suddenly, the fuzzies and slipper issue seemed a little overwhelming though, of course, it wasn’t.
Shedding slippers are NOT a big deal!
I know this.
You know this.
Before you think I’m whining please understand that I get that this isn’t even a problem.
People in the world have real problems.
I have real problems.
But the fuzzies were getting to me.
My winter happy place is dressed warmly, curled up near a window with a good book, a blanket, another cup of tea and some snuggly footwear. 
What is one to do when your slippers are falling apart every second and the detritus of their collapse covers your floor wherever you wander?
Should I buy another pair after I go to my doctor’s appointment the next day?
But I already bought slippers for the winter and aren’t we supposed to be staying home as much as possible?
I did get a stimulus check, should I use that to order new slippers online? That might take several days, at least.
I did have back up slippers from years past. But they were so old and grungy that I’m not sure why I even kept them.
Maybe for slipper emergencies?
Was this a slipper emergency?
Sort of like how I keep old grungy sneakers that don’t even fit in case of sneaker emergencies. Can anyone use a pair of old grungy sneakers?
Even if I didn’t have old slippers, I have a sock drawer so stuffed with socks I’ve got it on my list of things to do to weed through them. And I know some even have that rubber stuff on the bottom that keeps you from skidding around when you wear them. I could finally go through my sock drawer and find a pair of those to wear as slippers for now AND get “go through sock drawer” crossed off my things to do list.
I actually had a lot of things on my current “things to do list.” I needed to get to it, 2 hours later than planned, 3 hours and 15 minutes later than planned if you count my computer and fuzzies issues.
But damn, I kept coming back to the fuzzies. Should I wear the slippers anyway? I need exercise and bending and picking each fuzzy might count. And if I got too tired of doing that, I have a stick vacuum. Easy peasy and lightweight enough to quickly pull out and vacuum the little suckers up.
(I mean the fuzzies not the ants- they ants were a problem two summers ago.)
I needed to move on from this issue. I was sick of thinking about slippers and by now you’re probably sick of reading about them.
Yet, I couldn’t get out of my own way. Everything on my “to do” list seemed Herculean.
I decided to start small and make some of the calls I was supposed to make. No one was available to address any of the issues I needed to tackle.
The thought of taking a shower or making my bed, things I do every day, became a chore. Just rinsing out my tea mug was a struggle.
And the problem of the slippers was still hanging around.
I realized it wasn’t going to be a very productive day and my best plan was to just get through it. But my usual means of procrastinating- something I’m expert on by the way- weren’t working either.
YouTube foolishness? Couldn’t pick something out though I also have a list of things I want to watch on YouTube.
The list was sort of messy, maybe I could redo the list? Nope too stressful.
I love to read, why don’t I read my book? With my slippers on or off?
It didn’t matter, I couldn’t focus on the pages anyway.
I grabbed my word search book- something I check out for mindless entertainment, usually during TV commercials. After searching, I couldn’t find any words at all.
It was then it all became clear.
My issue had nothing to do with shedding footwear or a clean floor.
It was bigger than that.
It was MS brain fog in the extreme. A combination of exhaustion only someone with a chronic illness can experience after 9 + hours of sleep, and a lack of focus that lives within our brain daily but chooses to explode here and there, just for fun’s sake.
Fortunately, all of this occurred on the day of the second impeachment of President Trump and so I did the only thing possible. I got on my sofa, accepted the uselessness of the day, and tried to follow the the government news.
As if my brain wasn’t fogged up before……
At least I could offer the excuse that all the impeachment back and forth was historical and try not to beat myself up too much. Tomorrow was another day, and it may bring with it the potential for much clearer thinking. Maybe I could attack the “to do” list then. I’ll get through all of this haziness. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll also be in a better place to investigate my slipper non-problem.
Eleven years in and it still took me several hours to figure this out. But that, my friends, is the nature of multiple sclerosis. Sometimes it confuses you and sometimes it surprises you. Often, it overwhelms you.
Some days, in order to stop obsessing over fuzzies, you need to get on your sofa, pull a blanket over your head and listen to junk TV.
Or politics…….
Happy New Year my friends! Here’s a brighter, healthier and safer future for us all!
December 9, 2020
The Mystery of the Mysterious Malaise
An ode to Multiple Sclerosis, Covid and Christmas
Read to the end for a thank you, a celebration, a suggestion, a condolence, and some bad Christmas jokes
Back before I was diagnosed with MS, a friend wasn’t feeling that great. When asked, she said she was suffering from a malaise.
What a perfect description, I thought. A word that fit what was going on with me. Not a flu or a simple cold, but some weird malaise of unknown origin. Turns out my malaise did have an origin and its name was multiple sclerosis, but I still appreciated the word.
Nowadays, MS throws so much at me it’s hard to know when something is a new symptom or my imagination. Add in the various symptoms/concerns/mysteries of Covid and who knows what you have when.
This sudden, partial sore throat- MS, Covid or a mystery?
Stomach all a flutter-MS, Covid, bad food choices, stress (which relates to Covid) or a mystery?
Sudden hot/cold flashes-MS, Covid, meno…..can’t bear to say the word, or a mystery?
It’s enough to make one question their sanity which can be a symptom of something else as well. MS, Covid, a new diagnosis particular to mental health, or a mysterious malaise?
How do you know, and how do you make decisions based on the unknown?
Since I was more worried about Covid, I tried to do my own self check. I took my temperature and discovered that I was in a normal range.
Phew!
I know a loss of taste is another Covid symptom and I thought I should go buy some Lucky Charms to check that sense but alas, I was able to decipher from my pretty boring, somewhat healthy cereal that I still had a sense of taste. I may not be thrilled with that I was tasting but I could taste it- does that count?
Of course, the reason it was so important to figure this out was the high contagion factor of Covid. With this serious illness, you want to know and take every step possible to keep others safe.
I’d like to think I did ok on the safety scale. This is the scale regarding your proactive steps to avoid Covid and it ranges between “I’m never leaving my house ever again and am subsisting on stale cracker crumbs I found in the back of my pantry” to “flights are cheap now- let’s go on vacation!”
I tend to fall more towards the isolation end of the scale. I stay home for the most part, wear a mask when I do go out and haven’t eaten inside a restaurant since last March which should have helped my fitness goals.
(Did you know you can get delicious fat filled, sodium filled, tasty carb dishes from your own freezer? Sigh….)
But still, those new, unexplained symptoms remained.
I went online to sign up for one of those free Covid tests that are only free (and by free, I mean your insurance-oops- for me- the government pays for it,) if you have symptoms. But I didn’t know if I HAD symptoms as the symptoms are so hard determine. That was what I needed the test for!
Luckily, MS was able to help me out with that.
Do you have a persistent headache?
Check!
Do you have persistent body aches?
Check!
Do you excessive fatigue?
Check, check and check again!
I passed the online test and the free not so free Covid test back in November but now I’m told that’s not always accurate. And still the weird, new sensations in my body continue.
So how do you stay safe, especially with the holidays arriving? How do you handle them? I’m single with no kids of my own, but my nephews at 8 and 9, are on the cusp of the Christmas age.
And by cusp, I mean they fall somewhere on the scale of 100% belief that “I have to be good so the fat guy in red brings lots of fun junk” to the “I doubt he exists but I’m smart enough not to say anything in case my parents stop buying me useless junk because I no longer believe in red suit, chimney guy and his flying sleigh.”
I know this age well- I milked it until I was 15.
I even faked my way through a family friend showing up in a Santa suit when I was 12, smelling of an eggnog/whiskey combination and drinking from the same Barney Rubble jelly glass he was using when my mom served him when he first showed up as a normal guest.
Where’s Joe? He had to leave. Oh look, Santa Claus is here.
Do Santa’s elves know how to make a Walkman? Does Mrs. Claus have an “in” with Mick Jagger so she can help Santa get the new Stones cassette before its official US release?
This mysterious malaise has me worried about the holidays, so much so that I avoided the mall and department stores. The downsizing of Christmas this year SHOULD have saved me money. BUT, it turns out, having hours to shop online, while comfy in your pj’s, does NOT limit the number of gifts you decide to give.
What to do?
I don’t know.
But I have comforted myself with inappropriate Christmas music. Really Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer family? Did you grieve at all, or did you just sing a silly song about your sudden loss, even before making funeral plans?
And I’ve also watched what I THOUGHT were innocent Christmas specials.
Side note- did you know there’s a murder at the end of Rudolph? The obnoxious elf throws the toy bird that can’t fly from the sled and we watch in vain as he plummets to his demise. My convictions lead me to convict the elf; I never liked his attitude anyway.
Why didn’t we realize this horror back in the seventies when the show first came out? Maybe because kids weren’t so literal and particular back then!! We all knew not all of the special was fact based. We knew that Rudolph’s nose didn’t really make that obnoxious noise when it turned on. If it did, Santa would have murdered him instead.
Is there an answer as to how to know if you have Covid and how best to safely celebrate this year? I have no idea how many free tests my insurance will cover and what the holidays will bring as I try to sort through this mysterious malaise.
What I do know is that the holidays come but once a year and though they may be much different in 2020, we all need peace, joy, belief, and magic more than ever!!
Please celebrate safely so we can do it again in 2021.
I’m dedicating this particular holiday blog to all of our essential, emergency, and medical workers.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
Happy 200th birthday to me!!!!
Well not exactly to me but to my blog!
Yes, this was my 200th post.
I’d always thought that after 200 posts I should put the blog to rest so it doesn’t burn itself out like a bad TV sitcom. The problem is that MS and all things medical still give me a lot of material!! We shall see what the future holds. I’m just thankful to all of you for taking this ride with me and following the blog. Not knowing how much I’ll post in the future, the best way to not miss anything is by subscribing to my website. It’s free, safe and I promise to only send you content, not chains or spam.
And no, you don’t need to give my blog a gift. Just by reading and being here is a great gift to every post. However, should you need a last minute gift for the reader in your life who likes to giggle, MS Madness! A “Giggle More, Cry Less” Story of Multiple Sclerosis is available on Amazon.
RIP David Lander who we all remember as “Squiggy.” You fought the good fight and fought it with laughs a plenty. Your humor makes us smile still and for that we thank you.
Holiday Blessings to all of you and your families! I thought I would give you the gift of stolen humor this year. Below are some silly Christmas jokes I pilfered from a local newsletter!
What do you call Santa when he stops moving?
Santa Pause!
Where do snowmen go dancing?
A snowball!
What kind of bug hates Christmas?
A humbug!
What does the gingerbread man put on his bed?
Cookie Sheets!
And finally,
What happens if you eat Christmas decorations?
You get tinselitus!
November 18, 2020
Where Do You Go?
For my newer readers-
Please know that I appreciate the severity of the Covid 19 pandemic. It terrifies me and my heart aches for those suffering because of it. Please don’t take my lighthearted blog as a lighthearted comment on the crisis itself. When it comes to chronic illness, to something serious that scares me, to the pandemic; I do what I do. I make fun of an aspect of it in a blog to help people have just the tiniest of smiles amidst the struggle.
I bet my multiple sclerosis readers know exactly what the title of this blog refers to.
Do I mean where do you go to get a nose swab?
No.
Where do you go if you are of school age and not sure if your classroom is in your school? Or in another school? Or outside? Or in your bedroom?
No.
Where do you go for toilet paper when a pandemic empties the shelves?
No.
But you’re getting closer.
If you read the title of this post and immediately wondered where the closest bathroom was, you might have MS.
Before the pandemic I knew all the best public restrooms in a 100 miles radius in all 5 directions- east, west, north, south, and whatever is over there.
It was something I prided myself on. When MS took so many other things from me, including marketable attributes- multi-tasking, quick thinking, concise decision making and many others, developing a new skill meant the world.
And damn, I’m good at it.
Not only can I tell you where the best bathrooms are, I can map out a route of them for your various travels.
I can tell you which are always clean, which never are and thus need to be avoided, and which will be 50/50 depending on who worked the morning shift.
(This skill has been fine-tuned by my other diagnosis- germ-a-phobia.)
I can tell you which places have easy access so you don’t have to encounter someone working at the establishment who might give you the stink eye for not buying anything, and which ones you may want to take in a dollar so you can buy one of the mini packs of Junior Mints, just so you are considered a customer and don’t have to worry about getting kicked out.
Like with any craft, I developed this skill by needing it; constantly needing to go and needing to go right now!
(Ridiculous MS bladder issues really piss me off.)
I’m so brilliant at this, I thought of turning it into a side business. You know, a “text me your destination and for $2.99 I will text back your best bathroom bets” type of service. I was just looking into how to file taxes on my future riches from my new company when everything closed.
Stupid Covid!
The last thing I need is another useless skill but, here we are.
At first, personally, it didn’t matter too much as nobody was going anywhere and nobody was going to pay me to map a bathroom route from their kitchen to their living room. But now that things are starting to slowly open, this mastery could be handy.
The problem?
I don’t know how to do it anymore!!!!!!!
Covid 19 has made my knowledge obsolete.
And it’s not even due to the fact that wearing a mask makes your glasses fog up so much you can’t find the bathroom or discern if it’s vacant when you do.
No, it’s because so many places have restricted use and will no longer let you in for something as mundane as using their public restroom.
I still have to do my errands, one of which is the library, which is now closed. They offer curbside assistance but the lower level bathroom adjacent to large print books is no longer a rest room option. And that was one of my standbys-always clean, fully stocked, kind of hidden, no line.
The Dunkin Donuts near me is still a needed rest room opportunity except the tables are now taped. The problem with that is you would have to walk in, walk across the restaurant, and pass the blocked tables to get to the ladies room. Nothing says bathroom slacker like climbing over taped furniture.
And the $1 in your pocket is not going to make you a customer. Nothing in Dunkin Donuts is under a buck. You used to be able to buy one munchkin for under a dollar but now they are making you buy 5 at a time which will set you back $1.27.
And don’t fall for the corporate lie- that 99 cent donut special actually costs over a buck when you give Uncle Sam his cut.
I still have doctor’s appointments and their restrooms are available. But woe to the person who drove me or me, myself if I happen to drive someone else. You’re not even getting your temperature taken if you are not the patient. You are welcome to sit quietly in your car while the actual patient is inside the building, peeing away without a care in the world.
Recently, a dear friend was in the hospital and as her health care proxy, and the person closest to her who could bring her some essentials from home, I went to visit. Yes, of course, I was very worried about her and you’ll be happy to know she is much better now. But the most immediate concern when I got to the hospital was that with the Covid restrictions, I couldn’t get in until 2 PM!!! It was 12:45 and I was completely stuck. The hospital was on my list of approved pee zones.
They were firm, I absolutely could not go in until the approved time. The only exception was if the head nurse of the floor my friend was on called down and authorized an early visit. I checked and she was in a meeting- until 2 PM.
What to do?
I was humiliated as this was supposed to be my area of expertise.
I could see the acceptable bathroom from the front door and thought of making a run for it. But that would mean I would have to get by the front door people, the thermometer people, the greeter people and actually RUN. It didn’t seem like a potential success.
I left and thought of my list. Most of the approved places were restaurants near the hospital. But I hadn’t yet felt comfortable eating inside a restaurant, never mind using their bathroom. What a hypocrite that would make me. Fly in, do my thing, fly out all without breathing through my mask, less any droplets from the unmasked people chowing down reached me.
Back to my list.
McDonalds was up.
McDonalds is one of those “depending on the employee shift schedule” zones but as I pondered this, I was getting desperate. I drove to the McDonalds and took a look around. I could get to the bathroom easily enough as they offered inside ordering and just one or 2 socially distanced tables in case the weather was bad, you had walked to to them and needed that Big Mac like right now. I had no choice and used their facilities. And it was one of their good days, thankfully.
Afterwards, it occurred to me that I still had an hour to kill. And I was hungry. Where could I kill that hour and deal with the hunger?
I tried to be strong.
“I’ll take a walk,” I thought. “Maybe get a banana at a 7-11.” (Not on the approved list by the way.)
But I was tired of Covid, tired of stress, tired of thinking about bathrooms, tired of worrying about droplets in the air landing on me and making me even sicker than I already am.
I did walk.
I walked to my car, started it up and drove through the parking lot all the way to the drive through. I got fries and a small frappe, a nice rounded out lunch of potatoes and caffeine to help me through the wait to get into the hospital.
While I munched, I thought about the future. What could I do now that the knowledge I spent years acquiring was useless? I no longer knew where to go.
There was one positive.
I didn’t have “to go” anymore.
At least, not until I got to the hospital.
The first floor down by imaging offers a nice private restroom that is partially hidden by the x ray sign and so is almost always available….
Happy Thanksgiving my friends, a very different holiday for sure.
Please be healthy and safe.
If you do find yourself traveling next week, please be smart. Social distance, wear a mask, wash your hands and map out your bathroom trips a head of time!
For those so inclined, I was recently featured on the Bump in the Road podcast. Thank you to the amazing Pat Wetzel and her team for a great interview!
October 28, 2020
An MS Halloween Tradition
I actually have a new blog idea I’ve been fiddling around with. But then I remembered that Halloween is coming up in a few days and I just couldn’t let the holiday pass without reposting one of my most popular blogs. Don’t worry, I’m sure the MS misadventure stuck in my brain will still be relevant next month. In the meantime, is your brain ready for some scary movies???
Scary Brain, Scary Movie
It’s the afternoon and I’m shuffling around my house, trying to focus.
I have my lists; all the MS helpful tip books suggest lists.
There is the to-do-this-week list.
There is the to-do-before-Christmas list and the things-I-should-try-to-do-in-general list.
There is, of course, the things-I-should-try-not-to-forget list.
But the lists and lists were not helping me focus.
Oh, I know, the dishes need to be done. I will feel better when I have finished that.
So I start with the dishes and realize I might have more motivation if I had music going.
I dry my hands and head to the stereo. But then I see my computer and try to remember if I responded to that important email I received this morning. Yes, I see now that I did but there are some more emails to read.
I get overwhelmed with the amount of junk emails and chain emails coursing through my web account and give up, deciding to play FreeCell instead.
What’s up with us MS’er’s and FreeCell? Every MS’er I know is addicted to FreeCell.
My meds are giving me an awful taste in my mouth so I get up to brush my teeth and drink some water.
I see that I barely started the dishes and dunk my hands in the soapy dishpan yet again. And three plates and five minutes later the 8ozs of H2O has gone right through me and I am off to the bathroom. How on earth am I supposed to drink eight more glasses today? I might as well move into my bathroom.
The fog in my brain continues. The only thing I can focus on is my lack of ability to focus.
I’m forever existing in this fog-like state. Perhaps because Halloween has just passed I think of the movie The Fog.
Figures. Leave it to me to equate my multiple sclerosis to a horror movie.
But is The Fog the right horror movie? I am wandering around lost in my own little world and not feeling quite right- almost zombie like. Yes, zombies, zombies are a good description. I am an MS zombie for sure. I will likely stay like this until I fall asleep where I will be alive but dead to the world for at least ten hours. Then it hits- it is not The Fog but Night of the Living Dead.
Somehow, thinking of my MS in terms of horror movies brings me comfort as I try to remember what it is I was supposed to be doing. Night of the Living Dead, that is definitely the horror movie for sure.
Or is it? Sometimes I just want to scream. Actually, I just want to scream a lot. Maybe my MS really is Scream? I have always been a Neve Cambell fan. But does the movie Scream completely reflect all that my MS is to me?
It likely depends on what my MS is doing on any given day. Often, it makes me think I’m going crazy. I think of the classic line in Psycho, “she just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes.”
I remember too all the hysterical mood swings and weird symptoms I experienced before I knew I had MS. I remember hundreds of times of being convinced I was getting the flu due to the insane body aches, only to have them disappear, believing myself to be a hypochondriac.
I remember all the people in the world around me being totally off kilter but acting as though I was the one who was screwed up. Like when I had to go to my drycleaner’s several times in one week insisting that they had given me the wrong pants.
“Yes, they fit. Yes, they are the same color. Yes, they have the same fashion label and size label. But these pants have cuffs at the bottom hems. My pants don’t have cuffs. Yes, of course I would know if they were my pants or not. I will keep them as I need black work pants but one day soon someone is going to come in and say they have the wrong pants and I am telling you, I have theirs and they have mine. Feel free to call me when that happens and I will exchange them.”
My drycleaner and I had this little diatribe over and over. Funny how the other customer never realized she had the wrong pants.
Yes, Psycho is the movie. That is the one that most describes my MS. And it’s appropriate and personal as when I was a teenager I had actually waited on Anthony Perkins at a candy store only ten days after seeing Psycho for the first time.
My friend Heather worked at the store too and she was too freaked out to wait on him so it was left up to me. I gave him a whole extra ½ lb of penuche fudge so he wouldn’t bring out his knife and start swinging. Yes, Psycho felt right.
Bathroom again, but I stop to remove the pebble in my sock. But there is no pebble. What is that annoying feeling? And that one, the sudden sharp, jab in my left arm? And that one, the squeezing and releasing of my abdomen as if my stomach were in a vise? And here are those weird ear noises again- has my body been taken over by aliens?
That’s it, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. That is definitely the horror movie that best describes my MS.
It all makes sense now- aliens have taken over and turned me into a screaming, psychotic zombie living in a deep fog.
Finally, having this serious question answered and finishing up likely my tenth trip to the bathroom, I try again to remember what I was supposed to be doing. Oh right, the dishes.
I shuffle back and plunge my hands into the now cold water. As I do so I feel awkward and completely out of sorts. I am tired and clumsy and blinking from the glare of the setting sun.
Funny how images of The Creature from the Black Lagoon begin to cloud my foggy, psychotic brain.
If your multiple sclerosis was a horror movie which horror movie would it be???????
Happy Halloween!!!
September 24, 2020
Welcome #$%&ing Pod People
Before Covid-19 if you had asked me what pod people were, I would have said zombies, aliens or frightening, dangerous creatures created in a lab. My answer would be based on which horror movie I’d recently seen. I definitely knew pod people weren’t anything I would want to be a part of- no way, no how.
But now I can’t wait!!! This weekend I will be in the audience of an actual live music concert with the strictest of strict socially distanced requirements. I will be confined to my own special pod for the 2 plus hours except for when nature calls whereby, I will try to suffer as port-a-potties- yuck.
And I will be among many other pod people!!
Why I’m sharing this news is because I’m too excited about becoming a pod person to write a new blog, AND I found a link between the concert, MS and a recent article in Rock Cellar Magazine, titled “UK Survey: One-Third of British Musicians Say They Might Quit Due to Covid-19 Hardships and Uncertainty.”
Basically, without an audience, live music is in grave danger. According to the article, as many as half of British musicians have been forced to find second and third jobs and as many as one third have admitted they may have to quit all together. As the Covid-19 virus hangs around us with no real signs of disappearing in the immediate future, and it’s presence leaves unbelievably bad results and takes away amazingly good experiences, we cannot allow it to deplete live music as well.
(Music is a crucial coping mechanism. Right up there with faith and a sense of humor, 3 of my very favorites!) 
As our world changes, we need to change too. We need to be innovative and adapt and find the safest and best strategies for healing in our scary new world. These circumstances, on a much lesser scale, remind me of the adaptions folks diagnosed with chronic illness need to make on a constant and regular basis.
These changes suck.
And are exhausting.
And frustrating.
And ridiculously unfair.
But they don’t have to be the end of all great things, especially if we are willing to be open to new opportunities. 
Which is why I feel the need to highlight the steps my all-time favorite band has taken on.
(Well, my second favorite band. To quote Keith Richards, “The Rolling Stones are numero uno.”)
Adam Ezra has completed one hundred and ninety-seven live streams beginning on March 13, 2020 when his tour was forced to cancel. He has never missed a night, even when he had Covid-19 himself. His bandmates (The Adam Ezra Group,) often join him virtually and he has brought in other musicians via Skype to promote them as well. They call these nightly livestreams The Gathering and can be found on The Adam Ezra Group FB page at 7 PM (EST) every evening.
When the weather warmed, the band came together and started playing drive-in shows. Since then, they have developed a system for a live backyard concert.
They are not taking precautions lightly; there is a whole mechanism to make them safe, including grouping same home ticket holders in various pods. Finally, I get to see them live again though in an unusual but cool setting. 
It’s fitting because the Adam Ezra Group is cool. Not just rock, folk rock, classic rock cool, but outright, super classy cool. They have taken this horrible situation and found a way through.
Just like we MS’ers have to do, pretty much every freaking day!
They have learned to use their resilience, the health care system and the people who love them to spread joy and carry on.
They have figured it out.
And they practice what they preach when they sing “hold on to each other, find a way.”
(A great video if you want to check them out, Find a Way.)
That is a huge part of why I think they’re cool.
Come to think of it, I think a lot of my fellow MS’ers are pretty darn cool too!
For more on the band, check out their FB page, Adam Ezra Group, their FB fan page, Adam Ezra Group’s #$%&ing fans, or their website AdamEzra.com
Actually, years ago I happened them in another unusual, outside, live setting as well. One that was so bizarre in my MS world that, of course, I turned it into a humor blog!
Check it out here-
August 25, 2020
It’s As Sticky as Taffy Out Here
My car wouldn’t start.
So what, you’re probably thinking.
That’s no big deal. It happens. Cars won’t start all the time Yvonne. What’s so special about that?
Surely you’re not going to write a whole blog whining about your car not starting, are you?
And no, I’m not. I agree, cars not starting does happen all the time.
It used to happen TO ME all the time.
I had so many cars that wouldn’t start I swear AAA knew my voice when I called for assistance.
Then I started driving Toyota’s and my cars always started. A fact I mentioned to my nephew in late July.
And then, just about 10 days later, my car wouldn’t start; an irony he felt necessary to point out.
He’s 9.
And perhaps a car starting jinx.
What makes my car not starting different was where it happened.
I was at the Go Kart track.
No, I’m not making that up.
Some things you just can’t make up.
I had taken my friend and her niece and nephew there and after the kids rode around the track blissfully ignorant of car not starting woes, we hopped into my Camry. It refused to start.
In front of us, 20 or so go karts continually started up and sped off and my well maintained Camry silently sat like a dumb log. I sent my friends off in an Uber and then dug into my brain for my old AAA calling skills. But they’ve changed things.
Now you first have to get somebody to try to get your car started and if that doesn’t work, then you call back for a tow.
(What happened to the all in one trucks AAA used to offer?)
And so it was hours, waiting first for the diagnostic guy to tell me my car wouldn’t start and then the tow guy to arrive and bring my car back home, where it still wouldn’t start but at least didn’t have to be continually humiliated by all the go karts starting and zooming by.
It was hot while I waited.
And sticky.
And my mind started to wander.
It wandered right to this very old blog I originally wrote in 2013. And because August continues to be hot and sticky, and my brain is having trouble getting started on it’s own, I thought this month was a good time to repost a blog I named Taffy Summer.
And, if you’re looking for something exciting to come out of my sticky August then please see my fun news at the end of this post!
Taffy Summer
This post is dedicated to all of my Cape Cod friends who are likely in the deep, deep throes of Augustitis. It’s ok my over worked, over heated, over tired, over questioned, over being run over friends- Labor Day will be here soon.
The stickiest job I ever held was at a candy store that made its own salt water taffy.
(In case you’re wondering, the salt water part is a myth- no we didn’t take beach pails across the street, collect the bay water and pour it in the taffy vat.)
This was my first real job at the legal age of 14 as opposed to the four not so real jobs I held before. Those jobs included selling shells (high end shells painted with nautical themes by my very artistic uncle), sweeping the sidewalk in front of one lovely storefront at the bottom of my street, and babysitting the three year old whose parents owned the store next door to the sweeping place.
The wildest job was during the summers when I was 12 and 13 and ran my family’s guesthouse. I would take strangers (often single men) up to their bedrooms in our empty home and give them the keys to the house. Luckily it was never a problem (oh, the bliss of the naivete in days of old.)
But I have been thinking of the candy store job a lot lately, and I’m not sure why. Is it because no matter how clean the owners kept the place or how many inspections they passed, the floor of the backrooms were always covered in corn syrup?
That reminds me of how sticky I feel in this miserable humidity. In this damp sticky weather I am sticky as soon as I wake up. I am sticking to clothes, to chairs, and with my MS clumsiness, I’m sticking to walls too.
Not meThe summers at the candy store I also stuck to everything. I easily ruined three pairs of shoes each season and those were the only times in my life when I actually followed my mom’s “take your shoes off the second you come in rule.” I would need to allow an extra five minutes to make it back to work from my lunch break as my shoes stuck to the sidewalk with each step and added precious extra seconds to my walk as I forcibly yanked my feet off the ground.
No wonder I turned out clumsy, MS or no MS.
This weather is making me stick everywhere and I am just a sticky, icky mess similar to the sticky mess I was at the candy store. Problem is, at least taffy is sweet. I’m not feeling so sweet these days.
Maybe this job is on my mind as I’ve been trying to get in better shape and those summers were the years when friendly tourists asked me how I stayed so skinny working in a candy store? It actually wasn’t that hard. Believe it or not, you get sick of fudge easy when you smell it all day long and I never again want to even see taffy or corn syrup.
Ah, but it is nice to remember that at one time people referred to me as “so skinny.”
Perhaps I am thinking of those busy summers as I suddenly realize that I used to love the season and the excitement the crowds, summer activities, and the hot weather brought.
Not so much anymore.
Now the crowds translate to noise which makes my ears hurt, much too long to get anywhere or do anything and dangerous road conditions.
And the hot weather makes me want to move to the Artic.
Yes, that’s it.
That’s why I’m fondly pondering those years in the seventies. I’m wondering how I survived and I don’t mean in the guesthouse business.
No one in my world had ac in the eighties. We definitely didn’t have it at home and not only did the candy store not have it, the heat from the ovens and taffy machines jacked up the temperature. Yet I don’t remember suffering like this.
Also not meWhat is causing me to turn into an achy, sweaty, smelly mess as soon as the thermostat hits 82? Is it the extra lbs? Age? Global warming? MS?
Oh yes, multiple sclerosis affects everything, especially things that happen between June and September. I can fondly ponder all the memories I want. As long as I ponder them in an ac cooled room with a big glass of ice water and some time to rest.
And no taffy anywhere!!
FYI– With the help of some divine intervention, one of my long, bizarre dreams made it into the latest release of Chicken Soup for the Soul! An edition titled Listen to your Dreams. If interested, you can learn more below. Please note, while I was paid for my submission I do not receive any royalties from purchases.
Chicken Soup for the Soul: Listen to Your Dreams
July 20, 2020
If it’s a Type, Let it Bleed
Disclaimer- Please remember that my blog posts are tongue in cheek which means they should not be substituted for medical advice. If something I say sparks your interest, it’s best to do your own research.
I recommend Google.
I just read an article in the Huffingpost that claimed your blood type may affect your risk of contracting Covid 19.
I found this fascinating.
I know little about my specific medical statistics but do know that I have the blood that gets along with all the other blood. I remember this because I used to be a regular blood donor and the Red Cross people would call me constantly.
When I would try to put off donating, the male caller would whisper intimidatingly, “we really need your blood Yvonne” which I took to mean I better get there in a jiffy OR ELSE!
“Fine,” I would reply. “What days are they offering the Oreos instead of the Cheezits?”
Of course, that was before I knew that they ALWAYS had the Oreos but sometimes they liked to keep them hidden. That is why, when you donate blood, you must grab your post donation snack ahead of time, before they even stick you, so you don’t get cheated.
Most people donate because it is the right thing to do. Me, I donated for the good snacks.
Then multiple sclerosis came along. Now I HAVE to give blood regularly and I don’t get any snacks at all!
Damn MS.
But I digress, as usual. After reading the article and doing some more research, again Google, I learned that my blood type is O negative. If my blood is so great, shouldn’t it have an optimistic name- like, say, O awesome? O positive blood does some good, but O negative is better and should have the more encouraging name.
Heretofore I will be referring to my blood as O awesome which also turns out to be the best to have in light of Covid 19, though both O types seem to be at a slightly lower risk and tend to have less severe symptoms.
You B folks do alright- you’re just about average which totally explains your B rating.
You A folks have a little bit more concern. But before you run off to the Artic to isolate in an igloo for the rest of your days, again, you need to research this more. I’m not sure cold weather is good for Covid 19.
And you AB folks, well, you’re just rare….
Researching the article lead me to researching blood types and I learned something else. We O awesome’s, the blood type formerly known as O negative’s, are so cool, we can share our blood with everyone! Anyone in the world can get some of my blood and it will get along. BUT, O awesome people can only get their O awesome blood from other O awesome people.
That doesn’t seem fair.
If I’m suddenly in need of some blood, I have to wait for another O awesome person to show up, know that they are O awesome and not just regular O positive, and be willing to give me their blood. That doesn’t sound positive at all.
This seems like a bit of a metaphor on life. Like me, my blood is willing to do its part. But that doesn’t mean that everyone around me can say the same.
It reminds me of a cool rock song written by a guy with such incredible blood and genes that’s he’s fathered most of the attractive children in the world and his friend, a guy who is rumored to get daily blood transfusions just to keep up with his rock and roll lifestyle.
Their song lyrics go like this-
Well, we all need someone, we can lean on (Sung by everyone)
And if you want to, you can lean on me (Sung by only O awesome people)
Since I love the Stones, I kept singing-
She said my breasts, they will always be open
Baby, you can rest your weary head right on me
Jagger/Richards
Let it Bleed
The line about breasts got me to think about my bilateral mastectomy surgery and it put the comparison of blood types into a human example.
Following my surgery, a local agency was tasked with doing my home care, which sounded great. But they weren’t so great and actually, weren’t that helpful. They called constantly, came at times that didn’t match what they had written on my little card (which didn’t help the rest I was supposed to be getting,) asked a ton of questions, took my temperature, (which I can do myself,) and watched my surgical site to make sure I was healing well.
(The latter might have been helpful if I wasn’t already going to my surgeon constantly for him to do the exact same thing.)
These folks must have been A or B or O positive people. They sounded helpful and probably are to some but weren’t very helpful to me.
However, the agency also provided a home health aide. She was a youngish girl who came to my house when she said she would, took out my trash and, cringe, helped me take a sponge bath. I absolutely hated that I needed help with that but hey, when you can’t move your torso without horrific pain and don’t want to be stinky, sometimes you got to suck it up.
She was a tremendous help, basically a lifesaver. Definitely a fellow O awesome.
She was so great that she even did my dishes so well that my germaphobia tendencies didn’t feel the need to rewash them.
Yes, she was O awesome for sure. But I couldn’t get her needed help, without getting the help that I didn’t need from the other blood types that weren’t really that helpful to me at all.
Sigh…..
I wonder why they didn’t tell us about this blood type thing three months ago when Covid 19 started?
Maybe because we ALL need to stay vigilant and be careful. While we O’s (blood type O’s not Spaghetti O’s) are in a little safer category we still need to wear masks and not plan on going to any rock concerts soon.
(Unless it’s the Rolling Stones playing Let it Bleed because as this post shows, they are the exception and have this blood type thing down!)
I also wonder if this blood type theory applies to MS as well. Has anyone ever done a study on how blood type affects MS?
I tried to research it, but Google was bored with me and sent me a rude message referring to itself in the third person by stating, “Google is not responding.” So that question will have to wait.
In the meantime, stay safe everyone. Keep your sense of humor and listen to Mick and Keith, as we all need, someone, to lean on.
Even we O awesomes…….
Hey Friends! I’m super humbled and blessed to be nominated for a WEGO Health Award in 2 categories- Hilarious Patient Leader and Best in Show: Blog. Should you be inclined, you can endorse me here until 7/31-
Thank you for your awesome support! (Regular awesome, not O awesome.)
June 19, 2020
The Great Cornbread Pudding Saga
It’s the Corona Virus pandemic and we are supposed to be self-isolating as much as possible. Yet, little acts of kindness abound. We should always practice little acts of kindness wherever, whenever we can. But during a crisis is an especially good time.
It was in this environment that my friend Kristin called.
Her- “Hey, do you like cornbread?”
Me- “Yes, yum! I love cornbread!”
“Do you like corn?”
“No. Yuck. Corn is yucky.”
Many of you are already aware of my vegetable aversion. Corn is at the top of the list, just behind broccoli and mushrooms which are technically a fungus which should speak for itself on its yuckiness.
(Don’t ask me to explain how I like cornbread, corn flakes and popcorn, but not corn. My answer is that I’m weird.)
“Well,” Kristin told me, “I just made a cornbread pudding and it’s delicious. It was my grandmother’s recipe and I’ve always wanted to try it. It came out fabulous and I’m going to be in your area tomorrow. I could leave some on that little table you have outside your door.”
That’s, actually, what the little table is for. Not for cornbread pudding specifically, or for people to leave me treats during a pandemic; but for people to leave me fun stuff when I’m in a mood and won’t answer the door but also don’t mind surprises.
Kristin does not cook. Ever. So I was intrigued not only by cornbread pudding which I didn’t even know existed, but by the fact that she is so bored she has started to bake.
“Great!” I said. I mean, why wouldn’t you? Cornbread, pudding, both sound lovely.
And she did. She called me the next afternoon to let me know a treat was waiting for me. I found a disposable foil pan with delicious looking contents.
The thought occurred to me however, what is cornbread pudding?
Is it a vegetable?
A side dish?
A light entrée?
A dessert?
I really didn’t know.
I took to Goggle and found no answers. I found recipes but I didn’t need recipes. I had an 8” by 8” pan of the stuff. I needed to know what to do with it.
I took to Facebook and found answers that varied from “it’s a scrumptious dessert,” to “it’s a side dish” to “wow, I’ve never had it,” to “who cares, you just eat it!”
I cut a piece and the cornbread was indeed quite yummy. But then Kristin had to go and ruin it by filling in the pudding part with actual pieces of corn!!!!
There was so many I couldn’t even pick them out.
Why would she do that?
Why would someone take a great thing like cornbread, turn it into something even greater like pudding, and then muck it up with an icky vegetable??
But I had so much and didn’t want to waste her good deed. What to do?
I decided to be honest and just tell her. I called and explained that while I love the cornbread part, I did not love the corn and I had to be honest, I likely wouldn’t eat it.
“Why did you tell me you liked corn?” she asked.
I repeated our discussion from how I remembered it and was reminded of a similar conversation with another friend who loved to read. I’d suggested An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser as a classic that I actually loved. She read it and called me back to say that she liked it too but how come I didn’t tell her it was so sad? She’d been crying for hours.
“Uh, what part of American tragedy was confusing?”
But this wasn’t the same thing. Corn and cornbread have nothing to do with each other! One is an awesome carb that invokes thoughts of genteel Southern living and the other is a disgusting vegetable.
Kristin told me she didn’t want the pan back as she had plenty. Neither of us knew if you could freeze it and the internet was not helpful.
She said, “that’s because no one’s ever tried to freeze it as it’s so good! Why don’t you give it to your mom?”
I knew my mom wouldn’t like cornbread pudding unless it was covered with chocolate which this was not, but I didn’t want to hurt Kristin’s feelings even more than I already had.
I live in a complex with many elderly neighbors and thought I could gift them in this scary time with a fun treat. I dug into the pan cutting the pudding into nice small squares. Only after it was cut up did I realize that I was out of disposable containers. I took a roll of aluminum foil and as nicely as I could, popped each square into them and wrapped them up.
Have you ever tried to wrap pudding into tin foil? It’s not pretty.
Then, so as not to scare my neighbors with my knock during a pandemic, started to call them to see who would like some and to let them know I would be leaving little tinfoil squares on their doorsteps.
“Oh, no thank you, I don’t think I like that.”
“Um, no, it doesn’t sound like something I would eat. Why don’t you call #85?”
“Ah, darlin’, that is so sweet of you but I’m not really a pudding guy and plus, vegetables, yuck.”
“Not really my kind of thing but how are you faring during this pandemic?”
None of my neighbors wanted Kristin’s masterpiece. I decided to call a friend who lives only 5 minutes away.
“Umm, I’ve never had cornbread pudding, but sure, I’ll try it.”
Yay, I finally had a home for at least some of it and took it to my friend. We did visit but practiced safe distancing by remaining more than 6 feet apart as we caught up. I left two squares, in case she really, really liked it, on her table so as to get any nasty germs off the foil for a bit.
(Important note- this is not really recommended as the safest way to practice social distancing, but I was a little desperate AND wearing a mask.)
I had other friend’s I could call and offer more squares, but I realized I was tired and was kind of over talking about cornbread pudding. The MS fatigue that came from something as easy as accepting a free treat had turned into quite an exhausting journey.
My friend saw my plight and said if I really didn’t want it, she would be willing to try freezing the rest or would give some to one of her friends who was helping her by doing her grocery shopping.
I gladly handed over the remaining squares, lamenting how pretty they’d looked when they were all as one with their nice scalloped edges cooked to perfection, before I’d taken a vicious spatula to them in an effort to share.
But hey, I found a home for Kristin’s kind gesture and could now go home myself. Social distancing and practicing kindness can be exhausting!
I have no idea if my friend found the cornbread pudding to be yummy or yucky. She did say she liked corn and hopefully she likes it, A LOT! But I’m afraid to find out.
While I was there, I also recommended she try reading An American Tragedy but no, I don’t want to know how that turned out either!
Thank you to Healthline for including my blog on their list of top MS Blogs of 2020!!! Check out some of the other greater blogs here!!
May 22, 2020
My Left Breast
Have you ever seen the movie My Left Foot?
No?
Me neither.
But I doubt it’s anything like this latest blog post.
If you’ve been following my blog since the pandemic began, you might remember that things have been breaking left and right over here, and weird things that could go wrong have been going wrong in even weirder ways.
This past weekend I tried printing a recipe from a pretty well-known website and the recipe file got stuck in the printer. No, not the actual recipe as in a physical copy that jammed my printer; but a computer efile that jammed the computer’s internal something or other and it refused to go away!
No amount of escaping, deleting, cleaning or updating could get rid of it. Eventually, an exorcism was performed and with the help of a friend and a couple of hours of Geek Squad intervention, it finally disappeared.
No paper copy of Ramen Carbonara for me.
I’ve taken to blaming these bizarre things on a ghost. Her name is Sally. How do I know she is a female ghost? I found her underwear.
You see, I have an incredibly old sofa with two main cushions that are falling apart.
Confused yet?
Stay with me here please.
The fabric in the cushions is ripped in several places and the stuffing keeps falling apart and falling out. To hold it all together until I can afford a new one, like in ten or fifteen years, I cover each one with a bed sheet.
I was doing laundry and washed aforementioned sheets. Fresh out of the dryer, I pulled the cushions out to put the sheets back on. And, scrunched in a corner of the sofa was a pair of women’s panties that were not mine.
Even if they were, I would still blame Sally as I have no reason to stuff my own underwear into my sofa, but these were definitely not. So, they must have been Sally’s.
Some of my more practical friends pointed out that I share a laundry room and when I last washed the sheets someone else’s bloomers were left in the dryer, attached themselves to one of the sheets and thus wound up stuck in a place they didn’t belong. But being a bit of a germ-a-phobe, I find this idea even creepier and with all the things falling apart around here, I think Sally the ghost is the best explanation.
What does all this have to do with a blog titled My Left Breast?
Well, at the start of this self-isolation period, the first thing that went wrong was of a medical nature and I wasn’t ready to share it; a little “too much information” if you know what I mean.
I’m still not ready to share it but since I didn’t really have any other blog ideas, I got desperate and decided why not? You guys have read other personal stuff of mine so why not another breast story? A story I can’t totally blame on Sally but I’m going to anyway.
In early March, my recovery and reconstruction from breast cancer was complete. There was nothing left to do but pay attention, adopt healthier habits and regularly check in with my doctors. (And for this, I am beyond grateful.)
The reconstruction involved things I would have never have thought would ever have anything to do with my body, specifically plastic and tattoos.
Plastic you ask?
You’ll see.
About the third week in March I started to feel things I shouldn’t be feeling in my right breast. No, that’s not a misprint- my RIGHT breast. It felt like something was definitely wrong, almost like the reconstruction was pulling away from my chest wall inside my skin and falling apart. It didn’t hurt but it wasn’t normal.
After a week of this I called the doctor, a PLASTIC surgeon.
See? This is where the plastic comes in
(You will have to use your imagination on the tattoo part.)
He confirmed these sensations could be concerning and perhaps the reconstruction was failing. That would require a minor surgery that wasn’t happening any time soon due to the pandemic. Still, he felt it was worth checking out and agreed to see me as long as I promised I was not sick, took my temperature to confirm it, wore a mask and disinfected myself before coming in the door. I did and he scheduled an appointment.
As it turned out, upon examination, he said I was fine. My right side was doing what it was supposed to be doing and settling into place nicely. Most patients don’t feel these particular sensations when healing but because of the way the surgery altered my already fragile multiple sclerosis impaired nerve endings, I did.
(I wasn’t supposed to feel the tattooing either but alas, MS and Sally had other plans.)
The doctor was pleased with my right breast.
BUT, he informed me, the left breast was not in compliance.
It seems the reason why they looked different was that the actual problem was the LEFT breast wasn’t doing what IT was supposed to do. The left breast was also supposed to be settling into place, but it seemed it was slow to do so. So, as if it were stuck in obnoxious puberty all over again, my left breast was actually a late blooming boob.
Go figure.
I thought puberty was a one shot deal but no, not when it comes to my body. And I’m sure Sally got involved a bit too.
Somehow.
In order to spur my left boob to do its thing, it might need a mild tweak, and not in a good way. My doctor said he would evaluate that in a few months. It is unlikely that I will feel its own final mending as MS has made my left side very numb, even before breast cancer, and I didn’t feel the tattooing there at all.
I am pleased to report, upon my own inspection, it seems to me my late blooming boob has decided to catch up by now. I will return to my doctor in a couple of weeks to confirm. For now, Sally and I will just chill as both of my breasts and the country heal.
If you are keeping track, here are some of the things that have fallen apart in my little world since March- boob, TV, microwave, phone charger, computer modem, TV remote, printer and cable wires. But it is all manageable and for that I am also fortunate.
All of these things are super Sally silly and my family and friends are healthy. My deepest prayers, virtual hugs and healing wishes for those who are not able to say the same.
It continues to be my hope that a little levity at my bizarre, chronic illness life can add at least a tiny smile in these difficult times to all who may seek one.
April 17, 2020
Covid-19 and the Unexplained
During this scary time of self-isolation, it’s important to keep your brain active and discover new things.
This morning I discovered that my right thumb has a weird curve to it.
Huh….
When did that happen?
How come I’ve never noticed it before?
I would show you but what I haven’t yet discovered is how to use my left hand to take a picture of my right thumb.
Actually, this pandemic has gotten me thinking about words like paranormal, supernatural and phenomenon.
Paranormal-events beyond the normal scope of scientific understanding
Supernatural-a manifestation attributed to a force beyond the laws of nature
Phenomena- a situation that is observed to happen but whose cause is in question
The reason for this is that I’ve also discovered that I have a ghost. And it’s either not very smart or very, very grouchy.
The first thing it did was break my TV.
Yes, my TV is so old I can’t remember when or where I got it.
It’s so old that I had to buy a special entertainment center for it to fit in and it’s so heavy I can’t even lift it.
It’s so old that you can’t replace it.
When it died my mom said, “it probably just needs a new picture tube.”
Can you even buy picture tubes anymore? Would the kid at the hardware store know what a picture tube is? And what do you do with a picture tube once you have it?
Luckily for me, my friend had an extra flat screen TV.
(Who keeps extra TV’s lying around?)
Well my friend did and as my TV died on the first day of the self-isolation period, she wasn’t too worried about coming to my apartment to bring it to me.
Thank you, my extra TV having friend!
So much for your ineptitude, my newly discovered ghost.
But then the ghost forgot how to use the microwave oven and broke that too!
I’d never realized how much I use my microwave and I certainly deemed it essential. Thankfully, Best Buy is open for extremely important necessities and, after two properly protected, six feet apart, curbside visits I had a new microwave. (The ghost felt that the first one I bought wasn’t working to its full potential.)
Then, it was my hairdryer. What would I do without a hairdryer for all my upcoming Zoom meetings?
That too seemed essential and CVS carries essential products so while I went looking for TP, disinfectant wipes and hand sanitizer, I carefully, and without touching anything or anyone, maneuvered how to pick up and purchase a new hairdryer.
No TP, sanitizer or wipes though.
The ghost remained grouchy and next burned out a light bulb. Since light bulb burnouts are common, even when you don’t have a ghost, though this lightbulb burnout was DEFINITELY caused by my just discovered ghost, I had extra.
My cell phone has been incredibly slow at charging and tells me I’m not using the right charger. When it told me that in February, I went to Verizon and spent $40 on a new charger and things had been fine. Until my ghost got grouchy.
And now my laptop is also slow, meaning my ghost is completely sick of having me hanging around all the time.
Plus, every time I put on a clean pair of socks I find a hole in them.
What does my ghost have against clean socks?
But the supernatural does not stop there.
Here are some other things that I’ve realized are the result of the paranormal effects of this pandemic.
I really did not like a haircut I got in February. Since the self-isolation, my hair has grown into its own. For five weeks, I’ve loved my hair when I don’t have any need for good hair. When this is over, and a good haircut would be appreciated, it will probably be time for a new cut which I’ll hate.
The experts keep telling us to stay home except to buy essentials. But whenever I go out for essentials, I have to go to 5-6 places only to discover there are no essentials to be had.
This phenomenon speaks for itself but why isn’t there any toilet paper? Now that everyone is home all the time, we need toilet paper more than ever. Yet there’s not much toilet paper to be had.
If I was the President, I would deem all employees of the toilet paper factory essential workers and tell them to, socially distancing of course, make more toilet paper.
Have you ever noticed that the more time you have to do stuff the less you actually do? The last several weeks has only increased my ‘to do ‘lists. I’ve even had to make a new ‘to do’ list to keep track of all my other ‘to do’ lists. Still, I haven’t really ‘to do’ed’ much of anything.
Before social distancing was ordered, I was going to the gym. I was taking 2 classes, learning strength training and sweating through cardio. This required me to leave my house by 7:30 (in the freaking morning!) twice a week to get to the gym in time for the first class, and not return home for four hours.
And I did it.
Regularly.
But somehow the supernatural elements of this crisis will not allow me to spend even twenty minutes on a YouTube workout video in the comfort of my own home.
I’ve heard it suggested that now is a great time to try a healthy, new recipe.
How?
It’s hard enough to get any ingredients never mind healthy ones.
And what each store has none of or extra of never seems to make sense in the natural world.
Last Saturday my local grocery was chock a block full of fresh looking produce. But self-isolating alone, and being on a budget, means I can’t buy a lot of fresh produce as it goes to waste before I can eat it all.
Yet, there wasn’t a frozen vegetable or fruit anywhere. The frozen healthy stuff section was as barren as the cleaning products section.
People tease me but thankfully I was quite well stocked with frozen dinners before all this started. And it was under some of those boxes that I found a roll of frozen cookie dough. Major score!
But please don’t tell my ghost.
For me, I think the hardest thing to explain, amidst all this unexplainable, is that the words “soon enough,” as in, things will be back to normal “soon enough,” doesn’t mean “soon enough” at all.
Please stay healthy and safe my friends.
And if you’re bored, might I suggest binge watching The X-Files and learning how to be a ghost hunter during this most paranormal of times?
What questionable discoveries have you discovered in the last five weeks?
Definitions loosely provided by Google
