Fog Horn

I am lucky enough to live near the sea - right near Halifax Harbour. It's fabulous. There are two sounds that make me smile every time I hear them - the noon-day gun, and the foghorns.
I wish I had one of those. I'd like to be able to blatt it out whenever I go to do something without thinking. Which is a lot of the time these days as my MS-brain gets more muddled.
Like when I signed up with my local newspaper (a shameless rag). I didn't realize I had agreed to subscribe in perpetuity. So when I changed my credit card and they sent me a note saying that my credit card had been declined and if I wanted the newspaper I should call them right away, and I didn't call, I ASSUMED that meant they'd discontinue my paper. Not here in nice NS. They ran it on for another month. Then charged me. Now I don't feel like I should pay for the newspapers I didn't ask for, but who really knows what went on? I surely can't remember.
Or when I go to buy something and buy it without realizing I have no money to pay for it.
Or when I send in a writing entry filled with errors and spelling and grammar mistakes cos I just don't see them.
That's when I want to pull the chain and blatt out a big foghorn warning for everyone who has to deal with me - but for me, too. For now, I'll just have to hope it stays foggy around here and pretend the ones I hear are meant for me...

Traveling through the Phantom Tollbooth

Or, trapped by the Terrible Trivium, a monster that gives you endless pointless tasks to perform...
Today was a wasted day, and for some reason a wasted day seems MORE wasteful in the big city than it did in my little town. There's a whole world of fun things to do out there, and I didn't do a single one of them - just sat on my balcony, feeling the breeze, read "The Phantom Tollbooth" by Norman Juster (a fabulous book about words and language, filled with puns and more). I have a dozen writing contests to prepare entries for, and lots to do, plus the wonderful potential for exploring the city.
But the heat defeats me. It's 30+ degrees Celsius (90F) out, plus humidity. It's insane. Even the thought of it fatigues me, and I'm unwilling to get all sweaty and potentially induce brain swelling right now. I'm still dragging my body about recovering from the move, which all seems unreal to me.
One thing I should learn is that making decisions in times of brain fuzziness is not wise. I keep doing it, and live to regret it. But what seems like a good idea when I see myself in a hole and need to dig myself out of it is too tempting. I keep jumping to the Island of Conclusions, as Milo did in Tollbooth. And once you jump onto the island, it's hard to get off again. Let's just talk cell phone contracts, for one thing...
The cognitive changes in MS are one of the hardest things to cope with and understand. As a new friend told me last night, if you are irrational, would you be able to judge yourself as irrational? Do the mad know they are mad?
When life gets foggy like this, I know I need to go to ground and pull the covers over until I can see clearly again. It's hard to make others understand my sudden absence from things. But if I don't pull back, I know the mistakes I make will grow -and they may get past where I can easily correct them.
So, it's time for me to struggle off that island of conclusions and try and do things sensibly. Maybe a cooling drink would help....