Fifteen days to install a Microsoft update is a sign of a dying computer. It took some convincing, but I think my mom is finally coming around to the idea that her 2018 laptop isn’t going to make it much longer. The battery went out, so a careless bump will shut it off. It became overloaded and wouldn’t do anything, so she wiped it clean and is now accessing docs from the cloud. The thing is somehow still hustling along, albeit not well. It’s what she’s used to. New machines cost money, and they are a different kind of hassle.
On that same table where I imagine she is writing all her memoirs and histories of our families, my grandmother had an old, black and white TV with a flimsy green plexiglass filter my grandfather had rigged to avoid eye irritation from the screen. One day, the antenna fell off, and she called me to sort out getting a new TV. We got it, brought it back, turned it on, and her first comment was something like, “It doesn’t get channel 2. That’s the only thing I watch.” Back in the box. She told me later she went to the hardware store and got a nut and bolt for 30 cents. Problem solved.
A toaster oven not a foot away opened and shut with a paper clip for decades after the handle fell off.
And so on.
Things fall apart, bit by bit, and we get used to them in their funky state. At one point, that thing that is now tarnished and misshapen was the new shiny thing that would solve all our problems.
And yet, somehow that thing now groaning under the weight of our expectations must perform into perpetuity as it did when it was new.
From the outside looking in, it’s easier to diagnose what needs to happen because the outsider isn’t carrying the emotional memory of what it took to get that thing or get to that place. It’s also easy to see the thing that needs to change as symbolic of all the interconnected dysfunction. From the insider’s view, whatever we are holding onto makes sense as an interconnected system that simply needs a new battery, a cloud system, or a new handle. Maybe even some patient support from a family member or friend.
I’m writing about this because I have been sitting in a chair for two days working. I’m still behind, but I’m managing somehow. I got my hour of writing done, which mostly ended up being me copying and pasting a bunch of text out of my zero draft writing machine and into a document. 1,773 words. I couldn’t believe it. After 30 hours and over a month, this is all I have to show for it?
That said, I was a little of proud of myself, and after having put all these words there, I realized I am getting to that place where I am working on one continuous piece of writing, bit by excruciating, but sometimes exhilarating bit. I am following a plan, sort of.
What I realized:
First, even though I got my hour in today and yesterday to reset my streak (2/2!), I might still be in a writing free fall. However, I may have built enough netting around me to pad the fall and get back up again.
Second, I am trying to balance while crooked. I’m still getting the writing done, but I’ve all but stopped exercising. Eventually, my lower back will start to hurt and cause other related issues. My blood sugar and blood pressure will rise. I’m working longer and longer hours, staying up late, getting up earlier. I’m getting the writing done, but at a cost. Eventually, I’ll need to either replace a part of that lost exercise and build it back up again, or throw it all out and start over again with an aggressive 3-hour a day workout plan, which creates disruptions.
What I already knew and am remembering again:
The ability to rationalize bad decision making at night is a serious problem, especially under stress. I’ve got twelve applications to read by tomorrow at 9am. It’s now 11:11 p.m. How is that supposed to happen? The one thing I am certain of:
What’s working:
Staying up late and trying to catch up doesn’t work. Get sleep, try again tomorrow.
What’s not working:
I tried to get up at 5:45 a.m. to go on a hike with my daughter, but we both slept through it. I need a workout accountability buddy, or several.