This is my last beginning-of-spring in this place. In 2 weeks I'll be moved to the new place. And I will have roses in the summer. And a wall of bookcases for my companions thru life. 7 weeks detoxed, and it almost hit 60' today. It's all good, even when it's not.
Last night was the first really loud night in the Harmony. If that isn't a surer sign of Spring than even skunk, nothing is. Humans move and make mating calls to the season. Along with the birdsong today was random singing by duos and individuals and just a few minutes ago, the first blatt of a Harley going down E St. Our small New England town is coming back to life. And I'm glad I'm going to the burbs.
The melatonin seems to be working fine. Considering everything (I leave out all my friends' personal Hells from this blog), I'm chill. If it weren't for the awful stomach which I'm starting to think is a permanent thing I'd be great. I can handle it. Dealing with pain is all mind over matter. But the stomach thing, really annoying. There's a good side to that, too. I'll be a skinny old lady and that'll slow the disease's progression. So I may stay outta that wheelchair more. I already have been.
Though it was never my intention to end up hating opiates, I do now. It's as though 4 years of my life were wasted. And I never even got high. I was just slowed to a crawl. A stupid, memoryless crawl.
Spoke with my grieving SIL. She's doing okay. I got her to laugh a bit and we cried, too. The funeral went perfectly- the entire choir came to sing him off. Nice. The burial won't happen til the summer, probably, so maybe by then we can all get there. That would make me rest easier.
Once I'm unpacked, it's full-speed ahead with Gimp's Guide. I have so much material, this will be a writing summer. What I've posted here is about a quarter of it. I've been upclose and personal in several gimps' stories now for years. From before I became one myself. There are things to say.
7 hours ago