The Hygge of Doing

When I think of Hygge, I often picture winter-cuddling up in a warm blanket by the fireplace sipping a cup of hot chocolate. But as the seasons shift, so does the way we seek comfort. Hygge doesn't disappear with the warmth: it simply takes a different form.

I started my day as usual, baking a fresh loaf of bread. I had hoped to bake muffins the night before to have ready for breakfast. But alas, the half gallon of milk we had in the refrigerator had been there far too long. It had spoiled far beyond usage. Jack, in his typical teenaged mentality dealt with it by placing it beside the rather full trash bin. It was the early morning hours, so I didn't fret much over it. But night turned into morning, and then afternoon and then evening, With the milk long past its usefulness and the trash bin refusing to empty itself, my sense of cozy order began to itch. A short trip outside was exactly what I needed to reset the space, clear the air and bring back my sense of comfort.  And besides all that, I needed an excuse to get out of the apartment and walk around a bit. 

The day was a warm one, we were still out of milk and popcorn. Tomorrow is Father's Day, I hadn't gotten anything for my son, and wouldn't it be nice to have some ice cream? I told Tim that I was going to make a trip to the Dollar General to get the milk. He must have been reading my mind, because his response was "can you pick up some ice cream?" 

Summer's version of hygge isn't about candles and blankets; it's found in the crisp relief of cold treats, the quiet satisfaction of a stocked pantry, and small moments of synchronicity-like Tim and I, perfectly aligned in our craving for ice cream. 

And the fresh bread barely got touched today. Summers in the south are just too warm to desire heavy foods. Maybe it's time for the sourdough starter to find its hygge in the refrigerator.

Hygge

I've been thinking about the idea of hygge a lot lately. A few years ago, there was a YouTube influencer who lived in Sweden who dedicated her entire channel to the idea. Mostly she talked of lighting candles and cutting fresh flowers or having homemade treats on hand to make her home more inviting to others. But I have been thinking of it in terms of the people who live here.

My hygge likes clean cotton sheets to sleep on. That is why getting the courage to buy new sheets to replace the polyester ones my son had on my bed made me so happy. It likes fresh homemade bread and cookies. And of course, a nice cup of tea sweetened with honey and some fresh cut flowers do not hurt. But fresh cut flowers don't really go with the Lord of the Rings bachelor's pad feel of this place. My hygge will just have to make do with the tea and fresh bread.

My grandson's hygge likes to have the freedom to choose what he wants to eat, and when he wants to sleep. It's summer, and he doesn't have a job until the camp he will be counseling at opens in a few weeks. He might as well enjoy it while he can. School starts back in early August. The freedom will be gone before he can blink an eye.

My son's hygge likes a clean enough house and inhabitants who get along with each other. He says that a spotless home makes him feel like he's in a museum and he can't relax. But nobody likes dishes in the sink and an icky bathroom. Clean enough is good enough.

All of our hygges are technology hounds, Tim and Jack more than me. But I want electronics that do what I want to do without frustrating me. Tim has enlightened me to the uses of ChatGPT, but I couldn't load it onto my tablet. It is too old for the technology. And forget putting it on the old laptop. That thing couldn't handle Paint. But I got my new laptop today and it comes loaded with Copilot. And I have spent the whole evening playing around with it. I think it's going to be an interesting tool to learn.

Finally

My good computer succumbed to the blue screen of death about three years ago. Since then, I have been trying to limp by with this pathetic Acer Chromebook that barely has enough memory to load the start menu and an aging iPad. The Acer won't load Windows 11, and the iPad won't load IOS 16. I am at the point of no return with both of them. And both devices are geriatric, being around nine or ten years old.

Not that I really need much from a tablet or a computer. But I would like something that I could continue to blog on and will load YouTube, or Netflix. More and more I try to load a program or download an app, and I'm hit with a message that the platform isn't supported. 

Today I finally jumped. I bought myself an inexpensive HP with 16gb of ram and 256gb of memory, and comes loaded with Windows 11. I also get a free year of Office 365 and Aa 64gb SD card with it. I won't be doing any gaming on this thing, but I wouldn't be on a better computer either. I've given up on the lofty aspiration of becoming a YouTube influencer, so I won't be needing a high-powered editing suite. My goals are much simpler than all that. I just want something where I don't spend hours waiting for a program to open. I want the time I spend writing a blog post, or a grocery list to be measured in minutes and hours, not days. 

And yet even as I write this is the fear that I am expecting way too much of this humble machine and am setting myself up for disappointment. Time will tell, It arrives on Saturday. I have the week to dream of frustration free computing. Hopefully for a few years, until the computing gods decide I must once again upgrade my devices.

 

A Whole Lot of Baking Going On

I spent the week baking. It gives me a happy place to work out my raw emotions. Kneading bread can be very therapeutic, and it makes my son and grandson happy too.

I was able to get most of my things out of the pod. It seems that the only things my brother and sister were able to unload before I got there were a couple things my sister thinks will bother me.

I think I was right about my suspicion that Karen wanted us to unpack the pod for her. But even if I, or my son were inclined to be so generous, we really didn't have the time. 

I rented a van for a full day but needed to have it back at the facility by 7:00 pm.  Jack wanted to go with us and tried to force it by ignoring the time and missing the school bus. We had to take him to school before we picked up the van. Still, we were there before 8:00 am and were on the road before 8:30. The trip to Tuscumbia takes ~4 hours. We spent a little more than two hours unloading my things into the van and then had another 4+ hour trip home in building rush hour traffic through Birmingham and Montgomery. We arrived with just enough time to unpack everything into my storage unit and turn the van back in. We finished at 7:02 pm. 

I texted my brother when were about an hour out away from Tuscumbia and he was there waiting for us when we arrived. The house is on a large property and the driveway is very long. U-Haul in their lack of customer service had placed the pod a long way from the house. It was at least a full city block away, if not more. I do feel for my brother and sister, but you know...Karma is a cruel bitch. They had chided me for my efforts to try to convince the U-Haul driver to place the pod in a more convenient manner in Washington. They claimed that it was my fault the driver wasn't more accommodating. Now they were living with their inability to get them to behave in a more customer centric way. Still, it was April 28, and the pod had to be unpacked by May 1st, and none of it was done. I had to move their things before we could get to mine. We in the least, placed their things in a way to make it easier for them to move, if they did that. I am not sure, and I don't want to ask. I gave my brother the keys and a few other things I felt were best suited to staying with them. But I did not look for the artwork. I would probably have had to open every box to find it. I told Ken that I would send it when I unpacked it, and he seemed grateful for that. It made me wonder if Karen has been turning her abuse toward him. He asked us to come into the house, but I refused. I told him it was because of the time crunch we were under, but in reality it had more to do with wanting to avoid contact with Karen. He looked frail and depressed, and I was sad to leave him. But...there are too many reasons. I can only shake my head and fight off the guilt that I feel.

So now I am baking away my sadness, and my misplaced guilt. My grandson is happy to have the fruits of my labor. And my son's happiest childhood memories are around me baking. Neither of them is complaining about how I choose to cope, so I will continue as long as it makes me feel better.

I have also begun to knit again. I came up with an idea tonight to create a Blue Dot hat for all the blue dots around the country. I will write up the pattern and offer it for free on Ravelry. It won't catch on like the 🟠💩's red cap of shame, or the pussy hats of 2016, but wouldn't it be something if people really started wearing it. I'm thinking a blue stocking hat with the words "Liberty or Death" on it. or maybe "No Kings!" or "Hands Off". It will give me something to think about. I have already ordered the yarn to work on it. What do you think?

The Pod Arrived

 My brother messaged me on Thursday that the pod has arrived. I'm sure they are very pleased to see it. I know that I am. I will be able to get my things and put this chapter behind me. I thanked him and spoke to my son about when we can pick them up. He said Monday, so I asked Ken if the day would work for him and Karen and he agreed and even said that it will be good to see me. Hoping for a good outcome, I reserved a UHaul van.

I had been hoping for a good outcome to a bad beginning, but it doesn't seem to be in the cards. Yesterday, out of the blue I got a text from my sister... Now I feel disheartened. Once again, my stomach is in a acidy knot. Every time I texted or talked with Ken, I mentioned the key that I needed to return to Karen. The text is nothing more than a cheap shot. And the artwork, it was in my room after she dumped it all on my desk while I was travelling. I honestly only have a sorta, kinda idea about which box it is in and now I'm not sticking around to unpack my boxes to look for it while I'm there. I will be grabbing my things as quickly as I can from the pod and leaving as fast as I can. 

To make things worse, she texted the date the pod will be picked up, knowing that we plan to be there on Monday. I was left with the impression that she expects us to empty the pod for her. I really don't want to spend that much time there. If that is the case, my peace-maker son will probably want to oblige, and I'm not feeling that charitable. I want to have a talk with him about it before hand, but I don't want to be the problem here.

I'm glad my son will be there. 

Insomnia

It is 3:19 AM and I am awake. My insomnia is full force lately. I went to bed tired, but my Fitbit tells me that I have only gotten three hours and ten minutes of sleep: none of it deep, none of it REM. It is too warm in my bedroom and my arthritis pain is fairly moderate. I can take ibuprofen, but do I dare take more melatonin? Will that have me sleeping until noon?

I have been here for a full month. While I am no longer in the fight or flight mode, (I think I did both) I still feel adrift. This does not feel like my home. I have the urge to ask permission before I make the slightest change. But I don't dare ask permission because it is making my son crazy. He wants me to feel at home, for this to be my home too. So, I make the changes that I must have and hope that I am not stepping on toes. But this does not feel like my home.

Yesterday morning I woke up at nine. I showered and decided that I really needed to have a place for my puff to hang. So, I found a hook in my knitting supplies and hung it from the rack that hangs from the shower head. There were only two hooks built into it: one for Tim, one for Jack. My puff is teal and the colors in the bathroom are navy and grey. I will find a new puff in the proper colors the next time I go to a store. 

After the changes I made in the bathroom, I stripped the beds and washed the bed covers. They have not been washed since I got here. This is a bachelor's pad: men do not seem to care about those things. But, you know, bacteria and smells...When I remade the beds, I used my travel blanket on my bed. The coverlet that was there is a winter blanket and is too warm. Maybe it was one of the things that have been disturbing my sleep. The room is decorated in black and grey, as is the rest of the house. My travel blanket is a cotton summer quilt and is white with grey roses, not too much of a disruption...I hope. Tim calls it my room. I hope it won't upset him. He doesn't seem to get upset over much. While making the bed, I noticed that the sheets are polyester. I'm kind of a sheet snob. Polyester does not wick moisture, and the bed is too warm. I wake up in a pool of sweat every morning. I ordered new cotton percale sheets. I got them in grey, but it's another change I worry will step on toes. Guests do not wash the bedding or buy new sheets, and I still feel like a guest here. This is not how Tim wants me to feel, so I do what I need and hope it will be fine.

I cleaned the kitchen and living room and noticed that the AC blows hard from the vents in both rooms. That led me to check out the vent in my room. It was closed; I assume it is the same in the other bedrooms. I took the broom and opened mine with the handle, only a little. Somehow, I doubt that Tim ever even looks at them. But I can't sleep when I am too warm, and my bedroom has been too warm, even with the fan running. Those toes again...

Tim found an advanced emergency medicine course for paramedics that he'd like to take. It will have him spending three days a week in Florida through Christmas. He asked me if I would mind being left here with Jack while he does it. Jack is fairly self-sufficient, and of the age that leaving him alone would not be a problem legally. But he is a teen, and it is a better idea for an adult to be present. The opportunity is the sort of thing that his ex-wife would freak out over. He has walked away from a lot of career development to appease her. I have nowhere else to be so, I will be here at least through Christmas. I guess he's worried about stepping on toes too. 

I'm getting tired again now. Maybe I can get back to sleep. Hopefully I won't sleep until noon. I should get the broom and open that vent a little more.

Twenty-One Years and Counting

 My survivorship is now a legal adult. Wow. I kind of never thought this day would come. 

I did nothing to celebrate. What could I have done, gone out for pink iced cup-cakes and pink champaign? I had a quiet day at home, did a couple of loads of clothes. 

But 21 years, DAMN!

If I survive the 🟠💩, I will do something to celebrate in four more years. Maybe a cruise or something big like that.

There Was Some Splanin' to Do

Apparently one very sound reason for a single parent to give their teen an iPhone is that Apple allows that parent to track said teen. Tim knew where Jack was on the night of the storm and the next day when he decided to not show up for school. He and Jack went out to have a man-to-man over some bubble tea and pepper poppers. I'm not sure how that went down, but Jack has not left the apartment since Tim brought him home. I assume that it has been handled. It would have been of great value to me if that technology was available when I was a single mom of teenage boys. I'm very happy that it is available to Tim.

Speaking of useful technology, I am on the patio awaiting a grocery order to arrive. I know this is a luxury, but it beats having to lug groceries up two flights of stairs. I try not to feel spoiled and entitled by reminding myself that my grandmother had her groceries delivered on a regular basis. The downside is that the avocados I ordered came green and hard as a rock, and they keep substituting my lemon seltzer water for strange flavors like strawberry lime. But overall, I am pleased with the service and don't mind paying a small fee to enjoy it. Besides, it keeps me from having to drive here, and these folks are some crazy drivers. 

UPDATE:

My groceries came, but I also got someone else's groceries to boot. I called the store to report the mistake, but they told me that they couldn't retrieve them after they'd been delivered. So, we have been blessed with someone's dinner: steak and hamburgers and salad...What a boon.

Storms

The apartment office asked everyone in our building to prepare for the exterminators to visit yesterday. Apparently, there was an infestation of bugs in some of the apartments. It involved taking everything out of the cupboards in both the kitchen and bathrooms. It was a major lot of work. It felt like moving again. But we did it. It was rather fascinating to watch the exterminators work. They came in with spray and foam and a contraption that looked like a small vacuum cleaner which they vacuumed up any vermin they saw trying to escape. I had to force myself to not laugh and break out in a chorus of the Ghost Busters theme song the entire time they were in our apartment. 

The exterminators were only in our apartment for 20 minutes or so, but it was a long day of work the day before for us. After they left, I began the rather frustrating task of trying to replace everything back into the cabinets it all came out of. Tim went off to work. When Jack came home from school, like the teenager he is, he went right to bed and slept until late in the evening and then on arising, immediately started playing video games with his friends. Around 11:30, I was exhausted, achy, and smelled a bit like a goat.  I made myself a smoothie and went to the bedroom to get ready for a shower and bedtime. 

I had just used the last of my smoothie to swallow some Benadryl and Ibuprofen, when I heard Jack go into the bathroom. I thought I might be in trouble when I heard the shower running. The kid takes marathon showers, so I knew that I was in trouble. I'd be fighting sleep before he was finished. While all of this was going on, a storm had started. and it was a doozy. I went out to the breezeway to find that it had blown the patio furniture up against another apartment and the rain was blowing sideways, as were the trees. Not long after that, the power began to blink on and off. That must have rushed Jack out of the shower, because a few minutes later when the power went out, he came out of the bathroom fully dressed. We used the flashlights on our phones to find a few candles. But the Benadryl had done it's magic on me and I was fighting sleep. With no power, I was in a bind because my CPAP doesn't work when the power is out. It impressed on me the need to get a power station. As much as I know that I must reign in my retail therapy, I will be purchasing one as soon as I get paid again in a week. 

Just short of 1:00 am, I finally had to give in. I tried sleeping in a mostly sitting up position, and it must have been effective. When the power came back on at 4:30 I didn't have the expected sore throat from having snored like a foghorn all night. And the sleep report generated by my Fitbit showed that I had not woken up the umpteen dozen times that I would have expected. Still, sleep apnea is a dangerous condition that I will continue to treat with my CPAP. 

I found an even more dangerous thing when the power coming back on woke me. I went around the apartment turning off all the lights that were left on, and I did not see Jack anywhere. It's a small apartment, there aren't that many places he could be. I checked on the patio, and the furniture had been placed back where it goes, but there was no Jack to be found. I thought about calling Tim but decided that I will give Jack a chance to come clean himself. When he gets home from school, I will confront him and let him know that wandering around after curfew isn't wise. Mostly he is a good kid. But he is a teenager. Nothing he has done so far comes anywhere near what his father did as a teen, and especially nowhere near the shenanigans that I pulled. But I do wonder about all the nights his father was working, and I was sleeping. 

Business

I finally got through the Social Security website to tell the government that I have moved. My banks have been informed. I let Washington state know to stop sending me ballots. The post office has been informed to forward my mail. The retirement company that UPS uses is being difficult, but they don’t send physical mail anyway. I guess it’s official. I moved. 

This morning SSA gave me a wake-up panic attack. I had a message on my phone that there was a message on my account. I was afraid that I was going to be required to visit an office to prove that I exist. They only wanted to tell me that I changed my address. 

I miss the mountain. I miss going around a bend in the road and being hit with the National Geographic level raw beauty of nature. There is beauty here, but it is not on the same level. I was looking for a particular photo last night and it hit me that I've seen some incredible sights. I’m thinking about buying another rail pass in the fall and taking another cross-country trip. The trip from Seattle a few weeks ago exhausted me, but if I plan rest stops on the trip, maybe it won’t be too bad. Maybe this time I will start in Miami and take the train north into Maine. I’d like to see the autumn leaves when they turn. 

I'll have to stop spending so much if I really want to do that. My rent is much cheaper here, but I have been on a spending binge for the past few weeks. I bought new hearing aids and new prescription sunglasses, but I really needed both of those. Then I decided that this last trip that I took has left my shoes looking disreputable. Since every other pair I have is living it's best life packed away on the pod, I ordered a new pair. And I have been planning on replacing my summer wardrobe anyway, so I ordered some new capris and blouses. And since I have been informed that it isn't cool to walk along the golf course paths, I will need a bathing suit. So, I ordered a swim dress...this body has long since seen the day to show off in a bikini. And then, you know that I absolutely need a smoothie blender. I've really been on a binge. I justify it all as actual needs and tell myself to quit feeling guilty because I have already paid my son back the money that he loaned me. But really, this has gotten out of hand. I think that a lot of it has been retail therapy to soothe the uncertainty that I was thrown into. It has got to stop, or at least slow down. My plastic needs a break.