Ah it’s been raining on and off all week- one night torrentially- so I haven’t done much gardening this week.

Which is okay, because I have been fixing up another bed… this one inside- which is the worst transition/pun known to man. I am aware. Too bad I can’t do anything about it. I’m as disappointed as you are.

I was in and out of that mattress store in one hour. How? Because my decisiveness is matched only by my fiscal irresponsibility. Look. With a “cost per use” analysis, coupled with “bed is favorite place”… the price was less of an issue than it should be. So a handmade in Texas mattress with locally grown cotton and that is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever laid down on was the way to go for me here.

Here’s the thing. Our old mattress was over 15 years old… and ready to be replaced even before Lucas died on it in 2024. Now… this fact never freaked me out… but if I was hanging on to it for that reason that’d be fucking weird. And it got to a point where I was just looking at it from the outside and going… yeah… past time here. I could/should release it and not be sentimental or weird about it.

Plus my hip hurt every morning and the previously established indents meant I was still sleeping mooshed up on the side (left side, like the reasonable person I am. Not like those right side weirdos…). So. A new mattress was required and therefore acquired.

It got delivered on Tuesday of this week and they picked up the old mattress at the same time. I considered trying to mess with the delivery guys by dropping in casual conversation that someone died on it (for “fucking with” purposes)- but in classic Texas fashion the guys didn’t speak English and I’d let my Duolingo practices lapse. Also- have I grown out of being a dick? Yet to be determined, I guess.

They were in and out in 10 minutes. Change can and does happen fast sometimes.

It’s so much taller than our last mattress. And my hip hasn’t hurt once since I got it. It is awesome.

The cat also is a fan.

In classic “this shit again” fashion, though, it did lead to a couple of disturbed nights sleep. Nothing wrong with it, it’s just new and to be honest I was kinda expecting it would happen.

First night I just could NOT fall asleep… finally managing to do so at 3am ahead of a 6:15am wakeup. I kept trying to tell myself that I’d never struggled like this while traveling and sleeping on different beds… but to no avail. Next night was nightmares, though at least these were not of the lost love variety and instead of the apocalypse and keeping a brown hamster named Frank alive variety. What a refreshing change in horror genre, brain!

Then a couple of nights of mildly disturbing sleep (if I’m honest I’m still there). Soon I’ll adjust, I figure. Soon.

And I remember going: “oh that’s good!” to learning that this mattress had a 25 year lifespan instead of a 10-15 year one like normal mattresses- and realizing that meant I was okay for actually sticking around for that long. And so I guess the price I paid for this mattress was cheap, considering I learned I was well and truly okay with living this life again. Back in the days of early grief I read that widows and widowers usually live on average 12 years after the death of their spouse and figured I could begrudgingly hang on that long if I HAD TO… and now look at me ova’ here and buying a 25 year mattress. Also that statistic is well disproved by this point and was based on folks who lost their spouses after they were 60… and at that point we’re just butting up against normal lifespan issues, you know? Yet another example of “real fucked up things found in common grief literature.”

Anyhoo… so like… yeah. I could be better rested, right now. But I got to sleep early last night, only woke up at 1:30 for about 45 minutes, and then fell back asleep and slept till 8am this morning. The dreams were only mildly unsettling and weird- something about a library… I don’t know. But it’ll be okay soon. It will.

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I am still taking the dog for nightly walks and sometimes I even have to wear a long sleeved tshirt with my shorts now- as the nights are cooler and the leaves are starting to fall. Of course this poses its own issues as Wilson is THE BIGGEST COWARD KNOWN TO MAN and afraid of the crunch of leaves under his feet or the skitter of leaves across the empty streets. The first night it was a real issue and he was whipping himself back and forth like one of the disposable, scared white dudes with a flashlight in the first 15 minutes of a slasher movie.

Does it convey?

I realize in “NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR OR NEEDED” fashion that I am his emotional support human and not the other way around. In the week since I took that picture he has stopped whipping his whole body around and now stays glued to my side and instead looks up at me every time there is the merest hint of dried leaves rustling, and I have to reassure him that he’s okay.

I’m hoping the neighborhood murderers aren’t seeing this bullshit, I swear to god.

Is he growing on me, with his sweet face and absolute goldfish brain? Sigh. Maybe. Or maybe this is just resignation setting in. I did name him after a volleyball after all, so not sure what I expected- he sure is living up to it, lemme tell you.

Birdie- who’s walk is in the afternoon when I walk down to pick up my youngest from the elementary school- loves the fall and joyfully skitters through any dried leaves she can find. You know- LIKE A BRAVE AND NORMAL DOG.

Sigh. What ya gonna do.

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What else.

I am currently reading the Glass Castle and WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I HATE IT. This was a book recommendation trade with a friend of mine who, I can only assume, grew up with normal parents and wasn’t insanely triggered by this bullshit. I recommended her to read Martin Marten like I do to literally everyone ever since my aunt sent it to me in 2020 when I had covid. (Thanks Aunt Val!)

So- you’re fucking welcome, friend- I have to read this shit and she gets to read the nicest life feel book ever.

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The other night I had put the youngest down and was closing up the house at 10pm when I found my 16 year old watching old home movies in the living room. She wanted to see her dad, and so was watching some movies from 2010.

Oof.

I am so incredibly thankful to have these videos, as most of them are long form, day in the life videos from when he stayed home with the girls when they were babies and toddlers. I’d been a coward so far though, as I couldn’t bring myself to watch any of them yet.

But I sat down and watched them with her.

it was good to see him. It was amazing, even, to see him jamming on guitar and talking patiently and joking around with a toddler. The gratitude and love filled my throat and tried to choke me, though.

I’ll never be back there, is all. This must be what humans felt after being cast out of the garden.

But my wasn’t it sparkling while it happened.

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Anyway.

The body feel shook off fairly quickly, at least. Eightish hours, I’d say.

And it was good to see my love again.

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In other- maybe this fucked up sleep ISN’T really the new mattress, now that I’m typing this all out- news: I am ALMOST ready to pull the trigger on getting CDs and albums cut of my husband’s music. My music project is nearing completion here. Some of these recordings I assume will be pretty shitty- like the crackly recordings of blues musicians from the 20s- but some are pretty high quality. There are EIGHTY ONE SONGS so far that I’ve put through sound cleanup with a sound engineer I’m working with in Morocco. Next step is vetting the songs themselves (I know I’m biased so need a second opinion) as well as the order of the songs on the various albums with his cousin.

Then I put them on albums. Then copywrite them. Then I can put them on Spotify. The CD titles are picked and the artwork is getting worked on thanks to my friend who is as good of a graphic designer and artist as she is absolute shit at recommending books.

Lucas always wanted to do all of this and so I will do it for him. Tis, I’m sure you agree, the least I can do.

My Baby shall not perish from this earth if I have anything to do with it, you know?

Also… ooooooowwwww, sometimes. But it’s okay. It’s good even.

It IS.

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Not many memes or funny things this week- but here are a couple showing I do, in spite of it all, have my head on right this week.

Till next time.