Discombobulated

I wake up, foggy. I have slept far too long, and while my body needed it my brain was discombobulated.  Monday.  Start of a new week.  Get the coffee brewing.  Get Hubs off to work.  Sit down in office…oh…but the computer is disassembled and sitting on the floor.

I put that back together and open a Word document. Now…what to write?

Perhaps why the computer was disassembled?  Nah, too short.  I open my notes folder on my phone: the place where I keep my little dreamy memos on what to blog that come up in the middle of the night.  My most recent hot take: “little libraries and anti-aluminum deodorant.”

Um…what?

No, I do not know how these two things are related, so do not ask.  I will, as I write this, attempt to suss out the comparison, but I am pretty sure they are two unrelated topics that I typed down around 3am with the word “and” in the middle.

I saw a couple of little libraries yesterday.  For those not aware, these are tiny structures people have made or bought to house a small collection of books that are free to the community.  The premise is to take a book and leave a book.  Some people, during the time of COVID particularly, have added on a little pantry, too. 

My friend Chelsea built one for her house earlier this year as one of her quarantine projects.  It’s pretty flippin’ cool.  It’s also close to the kiddo’s house, so I have told them to head over there with some pantry items and exchange them for a book.  This little library is also the very first “library” to carry my collection.  I am hopeful someone picks it up and enjoys it. 

There are a couple in my neighborhood.  If I owned a home, I would totally be doing this.  I would stock that thing with new books all the time.  The library is where I learned to love books, and these tiny guys would have been so welcome in my childhood.  I’m glad they exist now.

So anti-perspirant is terrible for you.  Did you know that?  It’s like straight aluminum on your skin.  Now, I have a skin allergy to both aluminum and nickel, that was not recognized until I was a teenager.  Which means that for like five years I was walking around using this stuff and wondering why I had a constant rash.  I now use men’s deodorant, because only recently have they begun making aluminum-free deodorant for women.  Still, the big-name brands don’t really do it, and I have to spend ten bucks on a stick I don’t even know will be strong enough.  So, I stick to Old Spice.  Because for some reason. men’s big brands all come with and without anti-perspirant. 

There’s a rant against the patriarchy in there somewhere, but alas, I did pockets the other day.

See how those two topics are not connected?  They, also, were short.  So, I suppose in some way, in my hazy sleepy dream world, I thought combining the two would lead to a longer article.  It did, but it makes no sense.

So, my computer was in pieces.  My father got me this old friend for Christmas several years ago.  It’s a desktop, and some days I feel like an old lady at a typewriter because I can’t stand those fancy newfangled laptops the kids are using these days.  I love the click-clack of the keys, you see, and I don’t hear that beautiful melody quite the same on a laptop.  Also…I need a mouse.  Those touch pads are ridiculous.  Anyhoo…

I borrowed dad’s laptop because while I love my PC, it does not have a camera and a mic, which I was in need of Saturday night.  If you’re a regular reader you may remember that I submitted a poem in a contest for a local online poetry broadcast.  The winner got to go on-air and read the winning poem, and promote whatever they wanted to promote.  I entered.  I assumed I would lose. 

See, when the group was held in-person, there were some talented folk there and I often felt a bit intimidated, even when people told me they liked my poems.  I shrugged it all off and called it anxiety and moved on.  Then the thing went online and I assumed even more talented people would be submitting work, so I shrugged that off, too.  But I won in March, with a poem that I then turned into a micro-chap.  I didn’t submit for a few months, because 1. I had recently won and it seemed uncouth, and 2. I didn’t write anything for a little bit.  Then this month, I spit out a poem called On Fire.  It was less than 30 lines, the only requirement.  I sent it off to be judged by guest speaker Oli Wiggins, and they picked it.  I won. 

For the first time in my life, I used a webcam.  It was weird.  Everything was backwards and I hated it.  I was shocked I won, so I was nervous I was about to go on-air, and I was aggravated with the laptop, so it was probably a terrible combo for an onscreen presence.  Mark says I did fine.  I will just trust him on that.

Anyway, I read my poem, which was difficult because I no longer have bifocals (another story for another day) and when I was done, I told them the name of my book, but, like a moron, literally nothing else about it.  I mean, how many times have I said “It’s a collection of poetry about life with chronic and mental illness?”  Maybe three hundred?  But when it counts, I’ve got nothing. 

I don’t remember the rest.  The whole computer went blank when I signed off and I didn’t see the end of the show.  But I’m sure it was good.  The whole thing was good…especially Oli’s poetry.  They have a book coming up that I need to put on my to-read list.  

Hey!  If you have a little library you should definitely throw a local author in there.  And also, stop using anti-perspirant.  No connection.  Just some good advice.

I am now off to get some more coffee and start folding the laundry I put off all weekend.  I am less foggy; less discombobulated.  Not that you could tell with this post, though.

Happy Monday.

Ps. Twas brought to my attention that I should share the poetry reading. Here is the link. The whole thing is good, but I’m around the 1hr mark.

Chelsea’s Library

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