I have been feeling crappy since late December. Symptoms brought on by stress over the lying, baby-caging idiot-in-chief’s temper tantrum and failure to do his job are taking their toll. I am fatigued, yet I can’t sleep; I have other symptoms that I will not describe, but make it difficult for me to eat anything. Anything.

I finally gave in to my usual male resistance to seeing…

…a doctor. Went to him yesterday. Generally, my biostats are okay, but not sure precisely why these symptoms are getting worse.

“It’s the stress,” says the doc. While I will not allow a blood draw (talk about stress — even the thought of a needle stresses me out), I agree, I am not handling this situation well. I fear nothing will improve until we send that idiot packing to Florida or make him the first idiot-o-naut on his silly Space Force and send him beyond Pluto.

The doc gave me a prescription, which I will try to take. I have had it before, and it causes side effects that sometimes are worse than not using it at all.

When I got home from this doctor’s visit, knowing how I feel about seeing a doctor, The Spouse had caring comfort all lined up.

He laid out my comfy sweats and fuzzy socks to change into.

While I was changing clothes, he heated a bowl of my uncle’s famous cure-all chicken soup, complete with orzo, my favorite pasta for soup.

After I ate, he then gave me a massage and back rub. Ahhhh… I really do feel less stressed already.

All the while — I am in a complete news blackout. No TV, no internet media, and especially no social media. All tuned out to reduce my anxiety and stress level.

BTW, I am still working, but at home and when I feel clear-headed enough to think. (I have to think in another language for what I am working on, but that is another story for another time.)

Life is short: it is less stressful when The Spouse shows how he cares.