Rookie mistake - the way the dog was in the bed had me trapped under the blankets and I tried to use my legs to move her. An insufficiently braced core later and I've definitely wrenched something. Whee! Immobilization on top of staying home. I'd been out of bed for like three whole weeks (sure, I spend a lot of time in my bed, I love my room, I have a lap desk courtesy Abundance, it feels less in the way when Light's working on the couch, but I wasn't confined to it) and now I get to go straight back in.
I keep not doing things, stitching and watching tv and reading instead. I'm not 100% sure what's stopping me, I keep giving myself these ineffective pep talks about how now is the time to try things I need to figure out how to fail at, like yeast bread and non-cross-stitch needlework. But mostly I want to talk to people online and try to reorganize my craft closet into having more space.
When we moved, I sorted my books into boxes of read and unread books, because obviously the unread were going to need to get unpacked first. And the read still haven't gotten unpacked. And I kind of want some of my comfort re-reads, but the boxes that live in the corner of my room don't tell me which books are in which boxes. And maybe I should just move the whole set of boxes up to the attic, so I can occasionally forget that I don't have enough room to unpack them, but I also have a couple more shelves scattered amongst the house I can unpack books into. (one shelf on the first floor, two shelves in the room I share with Light, 1 shelf in the room I share with Abundance) Though now that we've pushed my bed into a corner,there's one entire side still has unread books in it that I can't get to, so maybe should reshelve those first.
I can't lift anything, of course, even if my back was good, so these aren't problems I'm going to solve at the moment, and anyway I know that some of my comfort reading won't hold up to any critical inspection and so I walk that fine line being wanting to go back to them to be comforted by that warm fuzzy blanket of reading something you're intimately familiar with and being concerned I'll somehow manage to retroactively ruin past comfort. But it's also a little bit like the lego kit I'm still not building, because once I build it, I'll never get to build it again for the first time so I keep not building it. If I re-read these books and they're ruined, then I can't anticipate the comfort of reading them ever again.
There's other housey stuff I'd love to do, art I'd like to hang, a garage to reorganize, a yard to try to collect dead leaves from, because of Nonsense's digging habits our backyard looks a little bit like it's been shelled and I suspect that'll be even more stark when we clean i up. I still eventually want to have a grill and furniture on the porch and be able to read out there, which will probably mean I need the reflex of being able to read and watch the dog at the same time. though probably more because she eats sticks and then comes inside and horks them up. I assume eventually I develop a sense of when she's about to dig, like you develop a sense of when a child is pooping/about to poop, even if I can't pinpoint why I can tell.
I told Bespoke I was getting steeped in Delight and Abundance's narratives about parents, and realize I keep poking at the part of my brain I suspect holds parent-grief. I kind of wish I just knew what my response will be when my dad starts to decline, other than fear I'm going to have to take care of my mother (thank you Media for having bought a house with an inlaw apartment, hopefully that means she'll get pawned off on him). Maybe I'll care about never actually getting answers as to why they parented me the way they did, but the best I'll get is what they think of as an answer, and I can guess that it'll probably be my fault, whatever it was and they've never been terribly self-reflective people.
I've been thinking a lot about perpetuating standards of care I've been taught to believe I deserve. And deserve is a stupid word and I'd get mad if anyone tried to tell me about what they deserve (though I can understand more about not deserving things, there's a lot of stuff that happens that no one deserves). And part of this is because I've realized that if I started drinking in 1990 and stopped drinking in 2004, I've now not-drunk longer than I drank, and why when I tried to tell them I'm an alcoholic they didn't believe me and why they didn't notice their 14yo daughter was drinking (I know the answer, I was a cheap drunk and the winecoolers at my house flowed freely enough that they didn't keep track of them).
I'm definitely craving community, I got to use netflix party to watch a show with someone yesterday and it was delightful and soothing and I want more of that sense of gathering, but don't know how to get it. I've got an online primrose meeting tomorrow, and I suspect that's not the kind of connection I'm looking for, even if it might be part of it. But maybe it'll be less or differently exhausting if I don't have to sit in front of a roomful of people. And no matter what, there's a Peter Mulvey streaming concert afterwards. And there's the online witchcraft classes, and there's a week-long online body justice/far positivity free class I might try to enroll in . It's a little bit talking to specific people I care about, but it's also a little bit about feeling like I'm a person participating in the world.