It’s Week 2 of the latest Bronchitis Bout. Like bipolar disorder, there’s really nothing new about getting month-long lung crud. It happens.
Sorta amazing, really, this blasé acceptance of whatever the day brings. I’m not always this cool, but it’s such a gift when I can be. Seems to me I was raging right up to the point of chills and fever.
A physical shock often resets my bipolar rheostats. Two weeks ago, I was text-wailing at my friend Lily, taking offense wherever I could find it, and wrestling paranoid thoughts to the mat. Today, I did laundry and cleaned up cat barf with nary an emotion in sight.
Except a little glee. I started a goofy spread in my art journal based on something I cut out of an old magazine years ago: “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” I worked on this one little piece while my laundry tumbled, and it just made me happy.
Sorta amazing, really.