No new normal

I am still struggling to write.

It forces me to think about things I don't want think about. Actually, it forces to think period. My thoughts these days are all fairly dark.

I just don't really see a way for my life to return to normal anytime soon.

Tired

I can't blame this on Covid totally, but I am not sleeping well.

This has been happening for ages, though the current situation probably makes it worse.

Also making  it worse are that I am putting a freaking mask over my mouth and that my legs tend to jump.

Oh, and that I have gone back to long-ish naps.

And I wonder why I am tired?

No more studying me

Everyone in the group that was in the drug study with me got invited back for the next round in late June.

I didn't.

I suppose maybe they just haven't gotten to me yet, although that seems pretty unlikely.

I was on the edge before the pandemic: 17 days away from home, work, Fame?

But I am sure I have no desire to go now.

 Friedreich's ataxia sucks; being dead is worse.

Stupid question

Why does my lower back hurt so, I asked myself today.

Then, one leg buckled when sitting on the toilet, and I crashed down hard onto the seat.

Oh yeah, I thought, that's why.

Then, getting off the toilet, a leg buckled, and I had to get Fame to bark for help.

Oh yeah, I thought, that too.

Then, getting out of bed, I slid off and my brother-in-law had to help me up.

Oh yeah, I thought, that too.

Maybe a better question would be:Why am I not one big bruise?

Not running with the wind

I recently remembered a song from my youth that had a refrain that went:
Living on the edge. Running with the wind. Soaring to the heights on an eagle's wing.

I thought of it because I had told a friend that these days I always felt on edge.

I am fairly certain this is not what Jim Capaldi meant.

And who knows when it will end?

I told my boss that I am not sure when I'll be back in the office, given that even if we social distance, I can't not fall.

Really living on the edge would be going to the office.