Scrivener’s Constipation

I can’t believe it. I, who never run out of things to say, really don’t have much to write about. I didn’t get the job I interviewed for, I’m not doing anything exciting, and I’m not battling bipolar symptoms. I have an appointment with Dr. Awesomesauce this Friday, but that’s two days away… what do I talk about on a cloudy, cool spring day when absolutely nothing is going on in my life?

Oh, yeah…..the fact that I entered a blogathon. Thirty posts in thirty days. It’s sponsored by the same organization that helped launch bpnurse last June, and all I can think of right now is “What the hell did I do THAT for?!” I can usually take off a couple of days each week, but starting Sunday I’m going to have to step up my game to stay in the contest. So either I’m going to have to get a heck of a lot more creative, or some drama is going to have to happen…..and God knows I don’t want the latter.

Besides, there’s going to be enough drama in getting my sister Louise’s stuff moved out of my house and into her apartment at the assisted living facility. It’s been just over a year since she fell and fractured her hip in two places, and it’s taken almost five months (since she moved to her current community) to coordinate the transfer of her furniture and other possessions with the available manpower (which turns out to be my daughter and son-in-law). Now if we can just get Louise to refrain from “directing” them and let them do their job, it should go pretty quickly.

Somewhat surprisingly (to me anyway), I have mixed feelings when I walk through the near-empty rooms where her things have been kept all this time. I’m glad she’ll finally have all her stuff—living out of a suitcase for a year has been supremely frustrating for her—and it means we’ll have less stuff to move when WE get ready to downsize. On the other hand, it symbolizes an end to the way things were for a long, long time, and in a way it’s kind of sad because her absence from our home is now so, well…..permanent.

To be truthful, this is actually a good thing because we get along much better living in different towns, to say nothing of different dwellings. The last year that Louise lived with Will and me—and the months when she was in the nursing home and then the other assisted living—were NOT good times for any of us. But I often find myself missing the everyday chats, the camaraderie, the deeply philosophical discussions…..and the sight of her furniture stacked up in the garage waiting for the moving truck raises a bit of a lump in my throat.

OK, well, that’s pretty decent work for someone with scrivener’s constipation, AKA writer’s block. Let’s just hope I can come up with a few more ideas in the next couple of days so I’ll have stuff to write about during the blogathon. Just hold the drama, please! 🙂




Published by bpnurse

I'm a retired registered nurse and writer who also happens to be street-rat crazy, if the DSM-IV.....oops, 5---is to be believed. I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder at the age of 55, and am still sorting through the ashes of the flaming garbage pile that my life had become. Here, I'll share the lumps and bumps of a late-life journey toward sanity.... along with some rants, gripes, sour grapes and good old-fashioned whining from time to time. It's not easy being bipolar in a unipolar world; let's figure it out together.

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