GRIM REALITY

 I'm not in the mood to candy-coat my blog and write what you want to hear, rather than what I'd like to say. I'm tired of trying to be "upbeat" when in the grimness of raw reality I'm wallowing in depths of acute depression.
I've been posting a lot of reruns on my blog lately, solely because they are more palatable to read than the present horrifying realms of my existence. 

I'm not in the mood to hear about saccharine Thanksgiving blessings and gratefulness and prayers, and sumptuous holiday meals with fantastic families and friends.

So how was my Thanksgiving?

Somewhere between the Twilight Zone and Dante's ten circles of hell. Thanksgiving week was one of the worst of my entire life.
In a proverbial nutshell - - I had no heat, no hot water, and no working oven. My numerous health issues were so bad that I honestly didn't think I'd live through the weekend (no exaggeration). My physical maladies are getting terrifying.

And it was the coldest November week I can remember. I've said this numerous previous times, but I'll say it again:
I always thought Tennessee was a mild southern state. If I ever knew it had six month winters with ice floes and penguins, I would never have moved here.

The house that I live in is so unbearably cold, damp, and drafty that words can't adequately describe it. It's like being in an igloo with the air conditioner on.

It was so cold last Monday (Nov. 22, I think) that I made an emergency trip to town to buy a space heater and an electric blanket (my old electric blanket literally burned up last winter).

They're no longer called electric blankets. They are now called heated blankets. I suppose "electric" sounds too lethal.

The temperature dropped to 16 degrees (Fahrenheit) on Monday night. The heated blanket kept me and the two cats very cozy.

My furnace? Stops working every time the weather gets cold. Just like clockwork. This time, I STRONGLY suspect that some air ducts have been damaged by the 'possums that rudely reside under the house. I have to crawl under there to check it out, but presently I'm not in the mood.....

My water heater? The tale is too long to tell. I'll simply say that the heater was improperly installed (before I moved here) and is located in an EXTREMELY difficult place to access. I plan to get a new thermostat - which seems to be the problem. 

The oven? It needs a new heating element, which I can easily (?) install - but I'll have to order it online.

Thanksgiving? I ate tuna sandwiches. To hell with a sumptuous holiday meal. I had a pork roast, which I made in the slow cooker on Thanksgiving night - with potatoes, carrots, and onions. Ate it on Friday and it lasted all weekend.

That was my Thanksgiving week. I have only revealed a very TINY fraction of my problems and woes. If I ever told the truth about everything, you would be completely astounded. 

Most of the time I'm so frazzled and stressed that I can't think clearly. I often feel that I'm losing (what's left of) my mind. I lay in bed at night listening to my heart pound ninety times a minute - and wonder how I manage to stay alive.

It wouldn't be a complete blog post without photos, would it?
Despite the frigid weather and my rapidly crumbling life, I managed to crawl through the back yard forest and take some pictures.

 

Most of the lovely foliage is now gone, and the forest is as bleak, bare, and barren as my soul.

I'm (very) hesitant to post this "selfie", because I look like Bigfoot's ugly brother. I've aged twenty years since I moved to the wilderness.
My El Cheapo digital camera only has a ten second timer.
I had to prop the camera on a piece of wood, set the timer, and then run like hell to get within camera range. It took about five tries (I kept slipping on the mud).

The nearby hills can be seen, now that the foliage is gone.

My Thanksgiving roast in the slow cooker (picture taken before it was cooked)

Comments are disabled for this post. Hell, very few people ever bother to leave comments on my blog, anyway......

GRIM REALITY

 
Fair Warning:
I'm in a rotten mood. In fact, my mood is beyond rotten. If you're looking for uplifting inspiration and unmitigated joy, you're in the wrong place. 
My blog reeks with the stench of grim reality. 

I'm not sure what unmitigated means, but it sounds impressive. 

I've been low on supplies for weeks but never (yet) made it to town. There were torrential rains all last week, which finally froze and turned to snow on Friday.
I'm not about to make the perilous trek to town on slick or icy roads.

Mother Nature's warm and assuaging breath melted the snow quickly, but the relentless rain returned yesterday, making it impossible to do anything.

When I heard that the rain might temporarily stop on Tuesday (that's today) I gleefully and frantically made plans to drive to town.
Dry days are so rare in Tennessee, that any possibility of encountering one should be seized immediately and utilized wisely.

With no raindrops in immediate sight, I started out early this morning. 
My car actually started for a rare change.
First I drove to my mailbox - which is about two zillion miles from the house. Since the latch on the box is broken, all my mail was a soggy, pasty mess.

I decided to drive back to the house - so I could hang up my mail to dry (am I being funny?) and clean the filthy windows on the car.

Halfway up the hill to the mansion, I got stuck in the mud. That's nothing new. I get stuck in the mud every time it rains.

But I wasn't just stuck.
This time I was Super Glue stuck. When I crawled out of the car I sunk in mud up to my knees.

I should mention that my left knee (still) hurts so badly that I can't bend my leg - which makes maneuvering in four-foot-deep mud rather difficult.

I'll also mention that I was wearing my best pair of jeans and an extremely nice winter coat.
I fell in the mud at least half a dozen times (no lie). Within ten slippery minutes I looked like the Tar Baby in Uncle Remus.

I'm going to be merciful and spare you all the agonizing details, but I will say that it took two hours to extract the car from the mud - - during which time I said things so vile that it would make Satan blush.

Eventually I had to trek up the hill through the mud to the garage, where I got cardboard to wedge under the car tires.

I was so friggin' disgusted after the two-hour ordeal that I went inside, ripped off my mud-covered clothes, and collapsed into bed.

I am COMPLETELY out of supplies. Fortunately I found an extra bag of cat food - but it's a brand that they hate.

Why don't you have groceries delivered to your house, Jon? It would be easier.

Hey, Kemosabe, I don't live in Fairyland. I live in the outer realms of Hell. I doubt if anyone could find my address. And if they did, the delivery truck would probably be permanently lost in five-foot-deep mud and fifteen-foot-high weeds.

I'm going to valiantly try again tomorrow (Wednesday) - even though MORE rain is predicted.



Unrelated note:
I thought my previous blog post about the Oscars was fairly interesting but only about three courageous and gracious people read it. So I removed it. It probably wasn't as intriguing as I initially thought. Perhaps I'll post it again. Heck, who knows?
I'm in such a rotten mood that I don't give a rat's ass what's on my blog.

GRIM REALITY

First of all, I was (very pleasantly) surprised at the favorable comments I received on my previous post. I didn't expect my depressing poem to be appreciated.

My poetry and piano videos are consistently my most unpopular posts. I admittedly inflict them upon you to show off - - and to confirm the fact that I'm not just another pretty face.

Should I insert a sarcastic *smile* here?

Depressing poetry is better than agonizing descriptions of my pathetic life. My problems multiply every day. Just when I think things couldn't get worse, they inevitably do.

Here's a (small) sample of my grim reality: 

I never found my gold and amethyst antique Italian ring. I did the most completely thorough search possible and came up empty. It vanished into thin air and I'm baffled.
Perhaps the Ring Fairies took it.....
or outer space aliens transported it to Roswell. 

After a long agonizing week I'm still without heat and hot water. During the coldest time of the year.
To compound the situation, my back is so bad that I can hardly crawl out of bed - - and my left knee is swollen (again) and I can't bend my leg.

  My attempt to fix the water heater the other day turned into a fiasco.

For some inexplicable reason, the water heater is situated in a small, windowless alcove adjacent to a dark, narrow closet. A wooden panel has to be removed before the water heater can be accessed.

 Water heater behind wooden panel -

illuminated by camera flash

It is completely PITCH BLACK in there and loaded with cobwebs. Due to my painful back and stiff left leg, I had to crawl through the closet - dragging my bad leg and holding a flashlight.
When I got to the mysterious wooden panel I encountered a spider that was bigger than a Frisbee.

I wish you could have seen how fast I crawled out of there in reverse. 

Next time I ventured in I had a flashlight, gloves, bug spray, and various tools. 
Working on the water heater in complete darkness with a bad back, stiff leg, and prospect of Mega Spiders isn't easy.
I occasionally had to hold the flashlight in my mouth in order to work with two hands (no, I'm not kidding).

Sometimes a big mouth comes in handy.

Unfortunately, I didn't fix the water heater. Yet. And I didn't dare tackle the furnace. Yet.
I'll have to force myself to look at it soon, because this is absolutely the COLDEST house I ever lived in.  
Heck, I don't need a furnace.....I need an exorcist.

I have two small heaters that do a reasonably good job of heating the bedroom, but I wanted to get another one for reassurance.

So I made the excruciatingly long drive into town and bought a heater at Walmart (last week).

Got it home. Plugged it in. Turned it on.
NOTHING!!!!!!
It was completely dead. Didn't work at all.

I reread the directions multiple times to make sure I was doing everything correctly:
"Plug it in. Turn it on".
In fifteen languages.

I'll return it to Walmart next time I go to town. If I don't freeze to death first.

Meanwhile, Bosco and Scratch are huddled in the bedroom by the heater, hoping for spring.
And so am I.

Bosco was so sick last week I thought I'd have to take him to the vet. He had a wicked respiratory virus - and for some strange reason one of his hind paws swelled up and he was lame (I think it was strained).

I gave him mega TLC, including vaporizers and a heating pad. He improved rapidly and is now eating heartily and walking on all fours.

Which is more than I can say for myself.

This post is far too long and boring, but I'll risk sharing it with you anyway. 

Boring?
Me??
Hell, no!