Why, you may be asking, am I still awake at 9 minutes of 4:00 a.m. It has, you see, to do with the weather. Leaves are falling, the harvest has left bare fields, debris from the fields, along with the dust, is being blown around by—Sunday and Monday, at least—40 to 60 mile an hour winds. I am allergic to dust, pollen, molds, mildew, various grain crops and other vegetation, and autumn is the worst time of the year for it.
And the irritations finally have caught up with me. My blood oxygen level (the SpO2 I occasionally make note of) dropped into the 80s and stayed there. I finally gave in about two hours ago and took a dose of albuterol by nebulizer. I am now enjoying what is known as a”productive cough”. and my SpO2 level is back up to 92%. The pulse is also going down. That percentage is supposed to be 96% and above.
Al and I got a call from my brother in the Twin Cities that he was driving from Minneapolis (about three and a half hours). We met at Applebee’s Restaurant (not great, but not the one that most lately flunked in sanitation, food preparation and customer service on our behalf, and to which we never shall go in our lifetimes). Today’s error was losing my brother’s soup, which was to be served before his salad; they did at least apologize and take it off his bill. Talk was about work that he needs to do on Tuesday at the parents’ home. He had been driving out here every month, but had taken off a couple of months for vacation activities. He also is retired, but has been picking up some freelance expert witness work. It’s always fun when he comes. But still, out again in the blowing dust.
He called as I was finally into the first half hour of a really good nap. Would always choose dinner with Al and Tim over a nap, but it has left me totally exhausted and anxious. Also, I did what I had intended not to do, which was pick up a dropped ball: the SFPA annual Halloween poetry reading on our web site. Thanks to another, Shannon, who stepped in at this very late hour to serve as co-editor and handle the promotions side. If anything will freeze me for weeks in indecision and total inaction, it’s communicating with other people. [Don’t laugh! I’m hearing you laughing from way over here, so stop it!] I have terminal stage fright.
I did, however, when my brother talked about attending a writers Meet-Up and writing to prompts, share Life’s Directions with him (accessed my poetry blog using my cell phone. [Isn’t technology wonderful!?!] And he looked up and said quite genuinely that he liked it. That’s sweet. He has a sarcastic edge that drives our mother up a wall. Although, my lack of a sense of humor, and “not getting it” a lot of the time when she writes, also drives her up a wall.
One more trip to the bathroom, and then I’m going to try again to get to sleep. I am not going back downstairs to the laundry room to see if the stuff in the dryer is done, yet. No more sidetracks! The phone is set to Do Not Disturb, my Tropical Surf track is playing, so as to cover up background noise, Sam is a sleeping guard dog, tonight; she and Flea are hanging around the door.
Thanks for listening. 🙂 I’m feeling much more civilized, now.