We’ve lived in Alaska for ONE WEEK.
And people keep asking how it is going, do we feel settled, are things put away, and instead of exclaiming, “YES! I LOVE IT! GOOOO ALASKA!” I have to reply with, “Nope. Still a mess. And I’m itchy.”
You see, we had our entire life delivered to our door on Tuesday, and on Monday I found out that I thankfully I am not allergic to Alaska but instead have SHINGLES. If you read Dooce, you’ll remember how thrilled she was to get shingles. Let me tell you, I am equally thrilled.
Turns out, shingles is a dormant version of adult chicken pox that pops up under extreme stress.
What? You mean like when you move your life from WA to AK and then live three weeks out of a suitcase, trying to work full time, unpack a house, get dogs adjusted, get yourself adjusted, and acclimate to a whole new life? YOU MEAN LIKE THAT?
Another fun fact about shingles? It fucking sucks. Envision chicken pox and poison oak had a baby. All over your mid region. OH! And, you’re on medication, but even after you’re done with all your pills, the itching wont stop for 2-3 weeks. AND! Some of the pain could linger for up to SIX MONTHS.
Talking to someone with singles means you’re talking to someone using only half their brain. One half is listening to you, the other is thinking about how fucking miserable they are and how badly they want to take a razor blade to their mid region.
On a positive note, at least I’m not working from the downstairs bathroom anymore.
Yes. On Tuesday I Skyped with work, and had a multi hour conference call while sitting in a camp chair, with my feet propped up on the toilet, in the bathroom while the movers brought everything I own back into my house.
My life is such a mess it’s actually beginning to feel oddly, normal.
I keep hoping we’ll get to the place where this feels less like we’re running in place, and more like life, but it’s been nearly a month since I felt like a normal person, so I wonder if we’ll ever get back there.
Thankfully yesterday was the first time in THREE WEEKS where I used bowls and silverware for my meals, but I’ve yet to actually COOK in over three weeks, nearing four, so both my waistline and my sanity are beginning to suffer. Corn dogs for dinner again dear?
I remember what it is like to work, walk the dogs, run an errand or two, maybe clean up a little, hell, even relax. Then once Adam is home to make dinner, eat at the dinning room table together, and possibly enjoy a tv show or two before going to bed at a normal hour. I have these memories, I really do, they live back there somewhere in the deepest corner of my mind, but I fear they are beginning to grow cobwebs.
Four weeks is a long time to disrupt your life.
Especially if you’re the kind of person who lives for ORDER, and NORMALCY, and ROUTINE. Someone who considers their home a sanctuary and the place that gives them the most peace.
Basically the entire reason I’m writing this post is to say that no, it’s not normal yet. And I’m not sure when it will be.
But I hope it comes soon!
Or at least the itching stops.
Either will do.