Decisions, Decisions
I had a need today to re-season My cast-iron skillets. I normally do this by applying a thin coat of coconut oil to them and placing them in a rather hot oven for about an hour or so. So I’m prepping the pans: Rinsed them out and scrubbed them with a special brush (no soap, never use soap on cast-iron). Then I went to get out the coconut oil, and I looked in the first place I thought that it was.
In the microwave.
No, the oil was not in the microwave. It was in the right vicinity, as I keep it in a cupboard above the microwave, but the first place I looked was in the microwave. It would be a bit funny if it weren’t something that keeps happening.
Between that and the atrocious conditions of this apartment complex, I am desperate to move somewhere that a little closer eye can be kept on Me, to make sure that I’m not a clear and present danger to Myself. I do not want to go to a group home. Cooking keeps Me sane, it’s become My go-to now, and they won’t let Me cook at a group home. (Unfortunately, I do it so well that I’m starting to gain a little weight!)
I’ve finally had enough of it, so I reached out to the local APS (adult protective services) for some assistance. They are going to be sending somebody by next week with a list of assisted living apartments in the area for the elderly and disabled. My companion has found a few already but I’m confident that APS will have a more complete list.
Interestingly, I called APS on Friday. Saturday morning, I wake up to a notice on My door letting Me know that this apartment complex has been taken over by a new management company. They usually replace the staff, though as of Friday it was still the same people in the office. But maybe this new company will do things better; if so, I might not need to move as urgently. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that some cosmic prankster was pushing Me to see how much I would take before I break.
At least I know that even if I don’t decide to move, I won’t be here much longer in any case.
On other fronts, I’ve been doing a lot of reading and thinking lately. I’ve been chatting with some missionaries from the church to which I technically belong, the LDS (Mormon) organization. (Look, I figure if you’re going to believe in something as crazy as religion, then make it the craziest religion you can find … and Scientology wants too much money.)
I’ve also been reading a book (slowly, as My eyes are failing Me) from a few years back called _Descarte’s Error_. It’s about the relation between emotion and reason, and it relates a bit to what I’m going through. I have a brain disease (along with brain injury from a car accident a few decades ago) that is causing increasingly noticeable deterioration in My cognitive abilities and social interactions. I highly recommend the book to anyone interested in such things.
Finally, on the drinking thing. I drank last weekend, as previous posts have detailed. I felt guilty about that for a few days and got self-recriminatory. I’ve decided not to feel guilty about that anymore. Current mindset is that if I really really really want a drink, I’m not going to put Myself through the psychological torture of self-denial. I know that drinking will shorten My lifespan; that’s true for everybody but other people probably have more days left on the This is Your Life calendar than do I.
The situation I described in the first part of this article, where I looked for the coconut oil in the microwave? At first, that kind of thing scared the holy ever-loving feces out of My nether regions! I don’t know what this means, but I’m starting to get used to it. I can’t stop it from happening, so I’ll embrace it and try to find some humour there. (And yeah, I’m aware that I’m sounding suspiciously like some of the stuff I was denouncing a week or two back. But hey, I’ve got a brain disease.)
