Well, I’ve been down in the abyss for the past week. I find it consistently amazing that when you (and I guess it means “me”, unless it’s also you) don’t feel physically well, it colors just about every single thing. Multiple antibiotics are kicking my ass. A clear liquid diet and then an all-white diet has been absolute torture for a foodie like me. And the smell of cooking has been triggering waves of nausea. I’ve been cranky and miserable; a total Eeyore, feeling sorry for myself and not fit for even remotely cheery communication.

The week was spent mostly hiding under a quilt curled up in a fetal position, reading novels to escape, watching some vapid TV series, not watching the horrible news, avoiding humanity and dozing. Wordle, the NYT Bee and my dog, little Rudi, have been my only constant companions. He’s been very anxious, as his routine has been thrown off. They can tell when something is wrong. Every once in a while I would emerge from the cocoon, look around the house at all the cool but extraneous stuff decorating this place that I should get rid of because I was sure I was going to die right then and there. Next I would say “Oh My God” aloud to myself and bury my head under the covers again.

A meme of a haiku has been going around the internet this week that made me laugh…. maybe because it hits home (probably for a lot of us).

I found myself admiring and almost envying the friends and family who have recently been able to have Fresh New Beginnings in their lives, to make geographical, career, or life changes that would send them off on a brand new and exciting trajectory. Meanwhile, I sat here feeling like a stiletto was lodged in my intestines, wondering who I must have royally pissed off enough lately that prompted them to stick pins into their voodoo doll.

Observations from the Urban Porch have thus been limited. There has been an ongoing circus of ambulances and police cars repeatedly showing up at the House of the Undesirable Neighbors who live a few doors down from here, bathing our windows during the pre-dawn hours in flashing red strobe lights. There has been rain instead of snow, which has been easy – although this freaky, unseasonably warm January in the northeast is cause for concern. If this trend continues through the rest of the winter, I imagine the ticks are going to have quite the party come summer. Speaking of the wildlife department, the squirrel(s) who have been depositing peanuts on the front porch have now expanded their repertoire to leaving partially eaten bagels. Yes, I did say bagels. I am baffled. Said squirrel(s) have also dug up a potted plant that I left out on the porch, presumably to bury the bagels for future use.

There has been another bat inside the house. It went whisper-flitting and banging around the upstairs walls the other night, heard, but not seen. If you have ever had bats in the house, you know that unmistakable sound. I had hoped that the bats would have migrated over the winter, but apparently some must have chosen to hibernate instead. The fact that one woke up and found its way into the living space is perhaps testament to this winter being unseasonably warm. Despite looking behind blinds and curtains and checking my shoes and jackets first before putting them on, this bat has not been located. I am hoping it has gone back into whatever crevice it came from. I have visions of going up into the attic with a flashlight for something and discovering the equivalent of a bat cave in the rafters. I already don’t go down into the basement – the attic space may need to be added to my No Go Zone.

The stiletto residing next to my hip eventually reduced to more of a punch in the side, which then downsized to something similar to a stitch one might feel after running. With each improving increment, so the mood has lightened. It is time to emerge from Eeyore, get out of my jammies, put on my red cowgirl boots and tentatively step outside, back into the world.

~*~