Posted tagged ‘talking out loud’

“I may just be on the outskirts of being okay.”

November 3, 2016

Neither of my two newspapers had the results of the game last night so it’s a good thing I stayed up until the end. This game 7 of the World Series had everything: a come from behind team who tied the game, a rain delay and extra innings. It was exciting. I was happy for the Cubs. They reminded me of the Red Sox who had gone so long before winning a series. They also had former Sox players and Theo Epstein who guided this, his second, team to a spectacular win.

I slept late this morning, a mirror under the nose late. It was eleven before Gracie and I woke up, but it didn’t matter. My routine stayed the same. I put the coffee on, went to get the papers and yesterday’s mail, came back inside, greeted Maddie and gave her morning treats, filled Gracie’s dry food dish, changed the dog’s water, put bread in the toaster, got coffee and my toast then sat down to read the papers. By this time it was closer to 12 than 11.

Gracie and I are going out today. I have a few errands I can do and a few places where I can shop. I am in the mood. It’s been a while since I last shopped just for the sake of shopping.

I’m finding myself talking out-loud more and more. Usually I start my conversations by naming Gracie or Maddie so it seems as if I am actually chatting with my pets. Maddie tends to ignore me. She even keeps her back to me. Sometimes I clap to make sure she hasn’t gone deaf overnight. So far she is just ignoring me, doing that superiority of a cat thing. Gracie is a wonderful conversationalist though she doesn’t say a word. She looks into my eyes the whole time I’m talking. She cocks her head every now and then which makes me think she might have a question. I don’t usually explain. I end most conversations with Gracie by patting her, a thank you for listening. Maddie just walks away.


“Can you go cazy without knowing you’re crazy?”

February 15, 2015

The Cape has the only blizzard. Everywhere else has a major snowstorm. The wind is the difference. It has been as high as 65 MPH here but is now slowing down. The snow has stopped in Boston. We will be the last holdout. Bitter cold is coming tonight. In Boston the wind chill will be -30˚. During the rest of the week the temperature will hover around 0˚.  At the storm’s strongest, 4 inches of snow an hour fell last night. This winter has jumped from the 9th snowiest on record to the third, and winter is far from over. They are predicting another snow storm for Tuesday but a small one, only a few inches. The last two weeks have been described as an historic event.

I find myself talking aloud. I suspect it has to do with being stuck in the house with only the dog and cats for company. Gracie is the best listener. She looks right at me when I’m talking to her. She could be thinking I’m crazy, but I prefer to believe she is intently listening to what I have to say.

My Sunday papers are somewhere near the driveway. I am having withdrawal. When I opened the front door, I figured if I could see the papers I’d go get them. I didn’t even see the driveway.

Gracie went right out this morning with no hesitation. She really must have needed to go. She squatted then started to head for the backyard to finish her business but thought better of it and ran right back up the stairs to come inside the warm house. She is sleeping now, exhausted from her few minutes in the snow.

What to do today? Nothing piques my interest. The laundry is still in the hall, but I’m not so stir crazy that doing laundry has any appeal. Maybe I’ll watch a movie or read a book or maybe I’ll just stare out the window with glazed eyes and slacked jaw.

“One advantage of talking to yourself is that you know at least somebody’s listening.”

May 20, 2014

Today is another lovely day. It rained last night. I could hear it as I fell asleep. The night got chilly, but I left my window open any way. This morning I heard the birds and thought it a wonderful way to wake up.

The trees are getting so leafy my neighbors’ houses will soon disappear. My deck in summer always feels isolated like a small island in the middle of nowhere. In the winter I can see four houses down to my friends’ house, but in summer I see only a bit of the house closest to me. I like that sense of peace, that aloneness.

I talk out loud. No one is here to listen, but I do it anyway. Sometimes I ask myself where I left what I’m looking for like a book and now and then my glasses. The other night I opened the fridge door, stood looking and wondered what to have for dinner. I directed that question to Gracie but she just cocked her head and walked away. When I banged my hand a while back, I cursed out loud because I believe that unspoken curses have little or no effect and provide no outlet for emotion. An article in the paper sometimes has me mumbling or grousing. I make comments to the TV and often correct grammar. I scoff at action which seems too outrageous. Baseball games make me crazy, and I know a strike-out with men on base is cause for those curses I mentioned earlier. “What are you doing?” is another out loud comment usually said to the batter swinging at obvious balls. If I knew it was a ball, why the heck didn’t that batter?

I don’t remember when I started talking aloud. I have lived here alone since 1977, and I bet I’ve spoken aloud many, many times over the years. I’ve never been worried about it, but should I ever get an answer, some rethinking might be in order.

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