The Bloody Doors Off

For 2021.

Yeah, I know. Resorting to clickbait. That’s what 2021 has felt like.

While I’m thankful for many, many things, I can honestly say this year can fuck off.

Because of the goddamned Conservatives in power here in Ontario, I fear for my fucking life if I get a bloody headache. I was nauseous for less than 24 hours this week, and because of the CDC website, I panicked that I had Covid. (Nausea is only a symptom for kids.) And because of the CONs, we can no longer get a PCR test. Without paying upwards of $300. And they’re not tracking daily numbers. So for all we know, half of the fucking city has it. And we’re only supposed to quarantine for five days now, because businesses are losing money. And the CONs keep voting down sick pay for employees.

I am thankful for my family and friends. And I’m thankful the federal government had CERB this past year (though they shouldn’t have ended it given we’re going into 2022 with a more virulent strain of this goddamned virus).

I’m pissed the ideas dried up, story-wise. The latter half of 2020 and the first months of 2021 were extremely creative for me. But this fall has been painful. You’ve heard the expression “it’s like having teeth pulled”? Well, I fucking did that. Had to face my fears of the dentist and spend thousands (because, again, no insurance because the CONs refuse to accept that proper dental care is essential to your mental and physical health) on getting several teeth yanked and temporary dentures sculpted. And I’ve got something growing on the bottom of my tongue that I’ve been waiting longer than a month to get diagnosed. (Monday can’t come soon enough.) And the week after that, I’m having one more tooth taken out. So yeah, January is off to a rocking start.

I sound bitter. I am.

But, I am also hopeful.

I am loved. I have a family that supports me through it all.

I made it through November and December wearing short-sleeved shirts. That was a goal I’d set for myself. (Because what really can you do when you’re spending 99 percent of your life in the same apartment, only getting out to run quick errands or walk the dog?) Social media has been a grimy window to the world, and it’s aged me this year. It’s added to the bitterness.

I am not making resolutions for 2022. I am waiting out the first few months, waiting to see where it will take us. (And it took Betty White as a final fuck you for this year, so I’m more than willing to flip Father Time the bird.)

So yeah, this is my final post for the year.

Which lasts for (checks the computer clock) forty minutes.

See ya on the other side.

Be safe.