My nightly routine is an early dinner, dishes, if it’s my turn, a show or game with my DH, then clean the litter boxes, and take a bath. I take a nightly bath because the medication that I take, letrozole, which prevents the breast cancer metastases in my bones from growing and killing, me also causes me to have pain and stiffness in my joints. It’s a complicated kind of stiffness which regular exercise can improve over time, but can exacerbate in the short term. Prolonged sitting also makes it worse. But after a hot bath I feel relief, and I can sleep better.

Tonight as I draw my bath, I am looking at images of Italy on my phone. I’m not overdoing it because I don’t want to be traumatized, but I feel the pain of health care providers who can’t provide care for everyone and who have to make the decision to withhold care from some of their patients. I can feel how painful it is for them to care, how they must distance themselves from that pain and move forward and how they will have PTSD from being forced to decide who lives and who dies.

I go to pour myself a bourbon but there’s only a tiny bit left in the bottle, so I add some Drambuie and call it good. It’s not really that good, but it’s officially permanent happy hour so I drink it in the tub. The cats keep me company.

I actually don’t drink much.

But we all have to get through this one way or another.

When Trump was elected I wondered precisely how he was going to destroy the country. At first it seemed like he would violate our deepest moral core by promoting nationalism and bigotry. Then we were horrified and impotent as he ripped families apart and caged children. Then it was clear he was going to undermine our most precious institutions and resources by gutting the EPA, the education system, appointing terrible supreme court judges, abusing executive privilege, etc. He had redefined the bottom many, many times. But now it seems like he’s actually going to kill all of us through inaction and denial.

David Frum is the last person I thought I would be agreeing with a few years ago, but here we are, united in our dismay, shocked by the sheer incompetence, trying to find the right hyperbole to describe what should never have been taking place.

“Malign incompetence” is the way Frum describes Trump’s actions, writing for the Atlantic.

I know a bit about malignancy. I know how it stays under the surface until it doesn’t. I know that only the most powerful drugs remove it, and the most powerful drugs keep it at bay. The malignancy that is Trump is the fungating fruiting body of the malignant mycelium that has been promoting wealth of the few over the well-being of the many.

For now we have to stay safe and try not to get sick. But soon we need to use our power to rid ourselves of the orange monster in the White House.

Rusty Nail

2 ounces of Scotch. But if you only have another kind of whiskey or bourbon use it
1/2 ounce Drambuie (there is no substitute. If you don’t have any, it’s time for whiskey on the rocks)

Pour the booze over some rocks and the liqueur on top. Add more Drambuie to taste. Stir or not, as you like. Draw a very warm bath and sip in the tub. Contemplate your social media usage and promise yourself that tomorrow you will protect your mental health. Check your phone. Enjoy.