Holding Steady IV

2 more wake ups until Take Off for the Road Trip. The elder sibs have been badgering me like eager pups for a minute by minute countdown. Yesterday I began to tease them that we had changed our minds and decided not to go. The initial tease started in my head as, "The Maskites have closed down the world again." I decided that had too many psycho triggers attached and kept the tease general. **We** decided. They never asked why **we** decided and I didn't push the tease far enough to get to "Why?" I'm just teasing, my Iddle Biddles. You tell me how much longer to take off.

I've been mini-marathoning on a post-viral-apocalypse television series. "Mini" marathons are all I can sneak in these days in the competition with juvenile marathoning. These days the tele plays kid venue far more often adult venue. I'm okay with that. I miss the naps far more than I miss the adult venues. I can nap to "Word Party" as easily as I can nap through "Hell on Wheels" when I get to nap at all in between the demands of animal and child care. The medical shows, horror or soapy, don't hold much appeal for me. Ditto for the doomy gloomy post-apocalypse movies. medical, military or mystery.

Yesterday, as I have processed the surprise of squandering my rare marathoning opportunity on a post-viral-apocalypse series, not to heavy on the medical drama, I have found myself wondering if the marathon is exposure therapy for going out among the masked masses **out there**. Yes, a viral apocalypse is possible. So is the mask-free "Planet of the Apes." Even if such a body of ifs come into alignment, is it really possible to be prepared for the big ^it^? Then we get to possible versus probable. Onward through the ifs. . .

I'm fissuring like a beaten crazy bitch wolf, but holding that as a normal part of anticipation anxiety. Ply radical acceptance here. The therapy tools seem to be holding.

Testing, 4, 5, 6. . .