It's strange, but nice weather almost always makes me mad because I feel obligated to get out in it. But, I can't write on my book if I'm outside; there are too many distractions, mostly in the form of bugs in my eyes. If I'm inside, I'm letting life pass me by, and yet, I'm not neglecting my writing. It gets to me that I can't actually do much anymore except sit around outside. No walks, bike rides, or walking down in the woods. Oh, well.
I decided to get my camera and did get some shots of a great yellow butterfly in the Beauty bush. Hope it turns out well.
UPS delivered another of my Lillian Vernon orders. I'll have a choice as I give gifts. I calligraphed a poem inside of a blank card for Steve's graduation. Then I took it and the Indian rug I bought him over to Moore's. We had a nice visit.
My legs are like lead stumps. I've tried to cut out salt; why I'm so plump way up to my knees, I don't know.
May 27, 1985… I just noticed the whistle hanging from my towel rack. I put it there a few months ago in case I needed help. I was having diarrhea so badly. I wondered how long I'd last. It's weird, but having my death forecast is strangely comforting. So many things I won't and don't need to worry about. I know and accept I'm going to die. What is hard is that I still enjoy certain things; I don't really want to die.
Everyone is frightened of dependence. Loneliness is not a fear… helplessness is another matter.
June 16, 1985… My legs look like Lincoln Logs. Oh well, I'll create a Father's Day card.
Black? … White.
Wrong? … Right.
Up? … Down.
Smile? … Frown.
In? … Out.
Whisper? … Shout.
Good? … Bad.
IRREPLACEABLE? . . . DAD.
June 22, 1985… Mom has been bringing up my meals. It's so warm for me to come downstairs. The folks bought an insulated drapery to close off my living room. The bathroom and my room will remain cool. Mom also brought me three maternity tops. She told me it was very difficult for her to buy them. I don't know whether I'll keep them or not. Vanity is a funny thing. I keep hoping I can look good in something, but it never ends up that way. My clothes are dwindling in number, and some are not too hot. Mom also got me a purple nightie; it's really pretty.
June 25, 1985… I'm glad I didn't have to go out and try on clothes. I'll keep the things Mom brought me. It would be hard to shop… physically and emotionally.