Today I feel significantly better than I did yesterday for sure but also still rough. Traveling around 24 hours in either direction last week, by bus mostly with an hour ferry ride each way, kicked my ass. During the travel itself not so bad, I mostly slept. During the few days of visiting with friends at my old homebase the time spent with beloveds was super high quality.
(This is the kind of appreciation of my cooking that most flatters: kids, who can be so particular with their gustos.)
(I had low expectations for this loaf of bread as the last minute request left me proofing a dough for only about an hour...but it came out super duper rico)
Then there was the "necessary evil" of the bureaucratic bullshit that gave rise to the need for traveling precisely then.
I waited outside of the garbage fiat bank branch from a half an hour before they opened, which is not until 1 p.m.... which had me third in line even though I was the first person there. I essentially let two dudes get up ahead of me, being unwilling to get right up at the door in the cold shadow of the building, preferring to stay a few minutes longer in the sun. It's winter here. Essentially this errand took up the entire day because even though I'd been assured repeatedly that I needed to present only one particular document in person, that is not how it went. Fake ass liars. They had my money and for that reason they knew that they had the power to bend me over the desk when I needed it back.
All day in that ugly building being harassed to prove that my money was "legitimately" mine in the first place and that I deserve to be allowed to spend it now, and the filth do not even have a "public" restroom.
(Grabbed the photo of this sticker in a public bathroom at a bar. Berlin in the house!)
You know if I had left that building to have a piss, it would have set me back in line so far that I couldn't have accomplished the task that day. On top of that, they are so incompetent that they did not even fill out or send the most important form which is required of them. Several days after, the bank of the recipients had to request for me to request of "my" bank, the SWIFT form that they had failed to provide to legitimize the transfer. Pathetic. But hay, at least they sent it via email upon request rather than holding it hostage for another round of flexing over me face to face... or face to back as it were.
Perhaps that day is what stripped my immune system most of all and left me returning home with a 50 pound medicine ball full of burning gunk in place of a head.
Yesterday, I was fantasizing about some strong workout lady thinking my head really was a medicine ball. She'd pick it up and hurl it at the ground to catch it on the bounce and it would split open like a kiwano in the sun and empty of all pain. For a bit more context, this cold is on top of hives that I've had on my poor litle belly, hips and back and my scalp for five months now because of mast cell activation syndrome...which alone and only that has felt rather overwhelming sometimes. Thus, I am ranting. Maybe some verbal barf will help my immune system react appropriately without overreacting.
(Above: Pepino Andino and Kiwano grown at a friend's and we tried...first time for all of us.)
Sorry strong lady, you'd get pretty grody-spattered, but thank you also for putting me out of my misery. I wanted to die, and had to laugh at myself for being so dramatic. My family and friends wouldn't have to ask themselves "why, why? is it my fault in some way?" Less emotional mess than physical and I wouldn't have to go out thinking of it the mess I'd leave. But please, don't blame the workout lady either. It was an honest mix-up. She did me a service and she's taken the brunt of the mess to boot. Instead I just took a decongestant because the herbs and oils were too little too late this time and self-immolation would have been an over-reaction, almost certainly. In the words of the great Bill Burr, "It's the little things..."