having had the major freakout that usually accompanies any illness for me, as well as 43 loads of laundry still in progress. i have bathed.  i need to stay up for the rest of the day, but not wear myself out.  perhaps go to the store.  go back to school tomorrow.  take one day at a time.

alone, alone, alone.  i really had never regretted it so fundamentally before, but now i really am seeing the error in being a single woman approaching age.  i have no net at all.  not that being not-single would necessarily make it better, i would probably have had kids too and then the stakes would have been higher, but still, i really hadn’t counted on being so totally alone in life.  feared it, but not really counted on it.  it surfaces most when i become ill and am stuck here contemplating myself.  alone.  alone.  alone.  and so it causes me to freak out full years prematurely and, instead of celebrating another profferred year of work, to worry about the what then?  which is ridiculous.  reading about other people who have it so much more difficult than i do, but then remembering that they are also younger.  and not. alone. alone. alone.

this too will pass, but it doesn’t seem i ever get any nearer to fixing it.  just passing.  and not a lot of opportunity left?  i wonder.  it’s just because i’m sick, this always comes out when i’m sick.  just piddly little viri, and i’m freaked.  what am i doing with my life?  what have i done? and i regret all the things that didn’t happen, whether i really wanted them or not, as if that led me here more than those that did.  this man, that path, the evaporated degrees, as if any of that might have mitigated my present less-than-mediocrity. might have.  didn’t.  yet.

Edit:  no, too soon.  got up.  sliced up some strawberries and pulled some bedding around in the washer.  searched online for library books thinking maybe...no.  stomach gradually feeling like it’s dropped out at the bottom.  what is this virus?  agita?  i thought i was getting a handle.