RAMBLE

Sometimes my head is a bowling alley

A rather crap drawing by the author (with Canva elements) because every lane is having their own Metallica laser light show and they’re all aimed at me.

If you don’t have a Medium membership, check back on my Substack on Monday and I’ll have (unless my ADHD bowling alley shuts down) a free link for you.

It’s been raining in DC. The humidity raps on the bridge of my nose, the bone that broke against the hardwood when I was slammed from above.

It expands in this staccato, warping my skull between my eyes.

Then the pain reverberates through my neck and spine. Cervical vertebrae issues. Arthritis throughout my whole body. It hurts. I can’t do anything other than drink too much water and seek heat for the small of my back. Tiny comforts.

I suppose I should say something about spoons. But, honestly, my brain has always hated that comparison. Why would we compare it to spoons? No one carries around spoons. And if I dirtied a spoon and needed it, I’d just wash it. It’s a 2 minute job! Is chronic depression and chronic pain making me stupid?

I’m sure it’s an autism thing — this need for even similes to be precise. But, there are so many other things to use. Why did it have to be spoons?! Even in the old story to explain why spoons, it is a tangled analogy. I remember the woman telling it needing to go and grab a bunch of spoons, which would then need to be cleaned by the waitstaff.