Zipdust and Crafting With Creativity: a Warning

 

Minus thirty-six hours from now I will be more or less dependent on the elements. This blog is nice. My bed is not nice. It spiderwebs out in eager tendrils, the pain from the bed. Tomorrow is the day that I will fix just about most of this. I am simply waiting until it is socially acceptable enough to start going in and out of the four-unit house. I'm thinking 6:45am is when I can reasonably start to get a move on. Especially if I am consciously quiet. 

Today I am going to work on the house while Emma takes care of things to sell and takes care of the baby. I will start with trash, then boxes (90% of which are Amazon-bred), then dishes, then sweeping, then vacuuming, then Swiffering, then moving furniture (safely), then putting in all three (3) new rugs, and then the mattress and then the bedside table. 

All the objects currently clogging up my room, the hallway, kitchen et al. will be swiftly tossed into the backroom office and then delicately re-purposed for a different location.

I like my house. Or, our apartment. It is a bit of a culmination of all the dozen little worlds I've crafted in the dozen or so places I've lived in over the past decade. It is full of books, posters, superfluous decorations. It employs colors that we all seem to like. I had a seizure a few days ago - my memory and faceblindness so significant that I thought my parents were here - I did not recognize my girlfriend at all. I recognized my son and I like to think he helped anchor me back into reality. Four seizures in one (1) year. Yeesh. This time I did not dislocate my shoulder but it has been in tremendous throbbing pain since and I do suspect it may have dislocated at some point. 

In a way? I wish I had woken up surrounded by EMTs asking stupid questions in an ambulance ride I have no inclination towards paying. Seeing my son helped bring me back. I thought my girlfriend was my sister and then my mother. How terrified one must be to confront one in a post-seizure state, someone they know intimately - and.they are sweating like none other, utterly terrified and confused and they have no clue who you could possibly be. How bizarre is it to have a seizure - four times, in a short order - and each time is the same amnesiac routine of slowly coming back down to Earth in a state of sweat and exhaustion, confusion and genuine pleading.

Suffice to say, I've figured out a fairly waterproof plan going forward. But I never thought epilepsy would pop back in to my life like this, with such showmanship and, uh - aplomb?