I don’t have anything to wear. I really don’t. Let grandson have his head in my office/slash clothing emporium. He shoved all the furniture into one corner, faces to the wall so I can’t get to my clothes. He is in there with the door shut, painting the walls and listening to some mysterious young person music.
My choices this morning and for the next few days are the pajamas I’m wearing, my wedding dress, and assorted winter coats in the hall closet. I didn’t think to even grab some panties. Well duh! Who needs them anyway? Discovered a few items forgotten in the dryer so I can piece together something if I need to venture out into public. That weird place full of creatures such as myself whom I will never figure out, but always have fun trying.
It is a fascinating physical manifestation of what is going on in my head. I feel like I’m mentally and emotionally skinned alive every night and wake up the next day an entirely new person. It’s a little painful but very interesting. My hair has always had a mind of its own but now it’s my whole being is doing that. Wander to the bathroom in the morning to look in the mirror, thinking “hmm, wonder who I am today, what will I look like?”
What is causing this? It’s like going through adolescence again, but even weirder. Is it retiring that did this? Or having a young guy suddenly living in my house and seeing the world through different eyes. Is it just a normal process that people go through when they reach a certain age?
So I have nothing to wear. Even when I can get to my clothes I look at all the bland non-committal body coverings. Mildly uncomfortable, meant only to cover me up so I don’t “scare” anyone or violate decency laws. I have so much junk. What did I want with it all? Who bought this crap? Was I in some kind of coma for 30 years? Do they pump something in the white noise in corporate buildings that dulls your mind to the point that there is nothing but tofu between your ears?
And it’s not just the clothes. My whole house seems like an emporium of weirdness today. Junk and stuff and things that are “valuable” and “important” or “sentimental.” Looking around the house, I can lay my eyes on only a handful of things that I would muster up a bit of a damn if they disappeared in a puff of smoke.
If my whole house were to lift off the ground today and leave to parts unknown, I’d replace a few things. My backpack, laptop and Kindle. That’s about it. Sometimes I wonder about myself. Probably others do too. She’s gone ’round the bend again, off the rails. Eh, so what?