Same stuff, different year

Apparently I kept the following brief notes during our road trip:

I have discovered that I not only have zero interest in Civil War history, but that I don’t even understand why anyone would have an interest in Civil War history. Is it the effects of Gone With the Wind, which bred my complete and utter disgust and revulsion for anything and everything related to the Old South?

Remind me that I hate the playground in Terre Haute. It is so insanely blazingly hot, every. Freaking. Time.

The water in Indianapolis is slimy and gross.

There’s a drought going on in the Midwest.

I might start insisting on free-range beef.

Why haven’t I been wearing flip-flops my entire life?

Mountains are beautiful from far away but I pretty much hate them up close. Especially mountains that have cities and farms in them. Ugh.

We always pass all these various types of weird shops and outlet malls and antiques dealers and G never lets me go to them. On the other hand, I have no interest whatsoever in acquiring more kaka to bring into my home. But still.

There’s something incredibly final, as well as sad, about crossing the time zone border in Indiana on our way back home. It’s much less sad than it was before we had Shabbos in Cleveland with my sister to look forward to, but it still sort of drops something heavy inside me.

That might be all you’re getting on the road trip this year, sorry. Just too much stuff happening and no time at all.

I am here for the single expressed purpose of stating that I must, absolutely must, be sure to wean myself off caffeine during the week leading up to next Yom Kippur. I didn’t do it for Tisha B’Av this year and it was fine. Headache, but nothing awful. So I didn’t do it for Yom Kippur either, and OH. My. GOD. Though I don’t think it was only the result of caffeine withdrawal, but obviously that didn’t help. It was like having someone tighten a wrench around my head. Brutal, inescapable screaming headache that wasn’t helped by lying down, or closing my eyes, or standing up, or opening my eyes…. OUCH. I think I was in shul for even less time this year than when I was pregnant with the Boy. If God forgave me for anything, it was totally coincidental. I have the strangest, most uncomfortable feeling. Not really having Yom Kippur is extremely unsettling. Will it count if I go read through the machzor now? I love the avodah. I miss having been in shul for the avodah. It’s my favorite davening of the entire year, and of life in general. My mother thinks that’s weird. I think it’s completely natural and only makes sense, and that everyone should feel the same way.

Anyway I want to record how bad this was, so there will be no chance of my forgetting or neglecting to wean myself off caffeine next year. Because occasionally when I’m bored and/or unable to sleep I re-read parts of my blog (you should totally try it too if you have trouble sleeping), so writing this down here is my best bet for making an impression on myself.

HEY SELF: NO CAFFEINE NEXT YEAR FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK BEFORE YOM KIPPUR. REMEMBER THE HEADACHE. REMEMBER THE WRENCH. REMEMBER THE TORTURE. REMEMBER MISSING THE AVODAH AND G’S SPEECHES AND NOT BEING ABLE TO DAVEN. REMEMBER HOW AWFUL THAT WAS. REMEMBER THE ALAMO. NO CAFFEINE. NO CAFFEINE.

No caffeine.

Ok then.

Of course I would have missed the avodah anyway, because the shul babysitters were gone before then and the babysitter we’d hired to be at our house did not show (heh), so I had to take care of ST, but still, headache headache headache. NO CAFFEINE.

See you in a few months.