Thursday Thirteen

1. So Thursday rolls around and I'm not ready for it. No 13 things in my brain, no great thoughts, no wonderful experiences to relay.

2. But the blank spot on the blog sits there, staring at me. And I've been doing this for years, real years, and spent a lot of time writing 13 things on Thursdays.

3. I think about my life, and how it isn't what I thought but it's not the worst it could be, I could be paralyzed or even sicker than I am. I still do things. Sort of.

4. Then I think about my guitar and for some reason I want to stop writing and play Sound of Silence in the midst of trying to think of 13 things, so that is what I do. I pick up the guitar and I play the song in B minor.

5. Then I put the guitar away and come back to look at the page, and write #4. Then I think, now what? What? What? Maybe I could write What? 13 times. But that would be pretty boring in the end, wouldn't it?

6. Then I think about how I have historical writing to work on, my magazine project, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn't be doing that. However, I'm tired because I've had a long morning. I spent hours at the doctor's office and then I saw my chiropractor, so I'm beat.

7. I could write about how my doctor wants me to go back to physical therapy because, "as we both know, Anita, you don't do pills very well, you simply can't handle a lot of medicines," says she. She is correct.

8. The physical therapy office, though, has been painted somewhat recently, apparently with oil paint, because when I dropped of my orders for physical therapy, I smelled it. I'm allergic to oil paint. Before I got out of there, which was only a few minutes, my lips were tingling. That's what happens when I get around paint. My lips start tingling and eventually swell. So now I'm not even sure I will be able to go to physical therapy because they painted. (Why would you use oil based paint and not something that doesn't smell in a health facility, for goodness sake?)

9. That makes me sad for some reason, so I go back to the guitar and I play Vincent, or Starry Starry Night, in the key of G. My husband hates to hear me play that song because he knows it means I'm feeling sad. He isn't here, though. So I play it through a second time and then come back to write #9.

10. The only theme I see so far is guitar playing and music. And thinking. I seem to be doing lots of thinking.

11. I think thinking is a good thing until you do too much of it and then maybe you become bogged down and stuck in the thought process, and you're sloughing around like a bug in mud, trapped because of the weight of the slosh on your feet. (Did I use the word "sloughing" correctly? I'm not sure. Don't care.)

12. I need new pants. That has nothing to do with anything at all but there you go. I need new pants because I've gained weight and nothing fits me anymore. I don't know why I've gained weight except I think my thyroid is out of whack a little. The doctor is checking on that because she thinks so, too.

13. I wonder if there is a song out there about needing new pants. I can't think of one but then the song Coat of Many Colors comes to mind. I remember learning it a very long time ago and I haven't thought of it in years. I wonder if I could still play it on the guitar. I think I will go see.


Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 604th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.