Last month, Brother - who is way more trendy and healthy than we are - got us a free week of Blue Apron meals. For someone who doesn’t like to cook (me), and someone who doesn’t like to eat anything but pizza (Husband), it was a funny experiment. We like free but we don’t do well with scheduled meals or cooking those said scheduled meals. And, of course, the sneaky thing about Blue Apron is that they deliver on Friday. If you want to cancel, you have to cancel by Saturday, like 12 hours after you’ve just gotten the delivery. By that point, we’d not even tried a meal so a second week - NOT AT ALL FREE - week was racked up on my credit card.
Now, the meals, though way more complicated than a frozen pizza, were good. So what if the prep time was way WAY longer than the stuffing in face time. And, so what if I might possibly have ended up with hives from the various new and unusual spices my body had not experienced before? And, so what if every little spice and veggie thing came in separate packaging and our recycling is only taken once a month and one delivery of Blue Apron resulted in filling half a recycling can? I was able to take the little bottles and make them into shakers for the 1yr old and the little cups into paint dispensers. So what, because the best thing about Blue Apron was the massive ice packs the food came with.
Now at first, they weren’t awesome. At first we were cussing their size and trying to jam them into already filled spaces in the freezer. But, let me tell you, those ice packs sure came in handy when I was walking down the driveway last Thursday and was t-boned by the dogs.
Because t-boned by dogs equals one “very bad Trimalleolar fracture.”
And guess what? Blue Apron ice packs are perfect for ankles that need to be kept cold and still while waiting for the swelling to go down so the surgeon can put in plates and screw in the dang ankle tomorrow to keep it from flapping off the end of ones foot.
Are the ice packs worth the one free week and the one – not even close to free – week? Um…that would be a solid yup! Because a “very bad Trimalleolar fracture” hurts. Very f-ing badly. And it turns out that the very big ice bags are very good at numbing the cussing.
And there has been a lot of cussing. A. Lot.
My mother, who is now home after a two week visit with us, does not have a cell phone. Or a laptop or iPad or even a working answering machine. At age 72, she takes up a whole section of worries in my Library of Worries. There is literally a shelf full of 'What if she forgets to...' that is waking me up at 4am in a panicky cold sweat.
When I shared our concerns that her lack of technology means a lack of access to her wellbeing, she, of course, changed the subject and then threatened to fire me as her daughter. Again.
Growing up isn't as fun as they said it would be.
So, with her abject refusal to join this century of technological tethering, we have requested 'Proof of life' emails and/or phone calls from her daily. She, of course, has not complied and I do not know if she is currently lying on the floor in a pool of blood because she hit her head on the oven door trying to get out the tray of burning cookies she decided to make but forgot about... or if she is fine and I should "just shut up."
You see what we're dealing with here. One of us is crazy and I'm pretty sure it ain't me.
Meanwhile, I'm very aware that my dependency on technology - for everything - is spiraling out of control. Despite my telling myself there is no new news, I am checking sites seconds after checking sites. I'm as bad as Tigger the Dog and the chipmunks. "I saw a chipmunk here last time, maybe he's here. Or here. Or here. Or here. Or here." Funnier if you read that in Scooby Doo's voice... but not funny when you're standing in the rain and she won't come in until she's checked all the places the chipmunk is not.
And the news today... well, people have not been nice to each other for years but the current asshatery is depressing. I mean, I never guessed I'd want to punch a hate filled racist lying oompa loompa in the face so much. And reading social media accounts of people I know and thought were friends of mine and finding out that they think our president should still be sitting in the back of the bus - well, it's not a healthy place to live.
I've been trying to wean myself off everything but that's like trying not to eat the bag of chocolate covered mangos in one go. "I'll just have one..." is just like "I'll just check this one site..." Both of those scenarios end up with serious tension and a miserable tummy ache. As a result of my lack of control, I'm going technology cold turkey. I hope to be able to spend some time focusing on "being in the moment" and not living and hating through a screen. Odds are not good that this will be a long hiatus but they say it takes two weeks to break a habit so aiming for at least that with the social media accounts.
With regards to this blog, I don't know when I'll be back to blurting. Pretty sure the world doesn't need my little missives on life and love but I call this blog 'Emotional Maintenance' so I imagine I'll have/want to blurt/vent/share at some point. I can't keep chipmunk murders and the like inside my head. It makes for some messy over sharing interactions at the grocery store. Believe me, I'm pretty sure the checkout ladies have a picture of my face with a sign saying, “Don’t ask how her day is going!” Blurts will continue to happen as they happen to me - cause I'm sure your life would be incomplete if you didn't know about the massive all over my body hives I am currently battling and the drug drunk conversations I'm having as a result.
For now, I'd like to thank you for reading my brain and sharing in the crazy that comes out my Library of Worries.
Ironic isn't it. My mom is right to not be chained to the world through this passive aggressive web of technology... dammit! Regardless, I'm still gonna need her Proof of Life. With the state the world is in, I don't have any more room in the Library...
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me