Must read Vox more often

It's crummy when I don't sit and read Vox at least once a week.  I've missed so much—in others' lives and in not expressing what I've really been thinking or feeling.  A great cloud of emotion hovers above me, even as I write this in the breezy sun of springtime.  I grieve—for friends and their trials (you know who you are)—and for strange things that I have to remind myself of from time to time (lack of a future, a point of view impossible to share, etc.)…

So I've finally managed to apply for Social Security benefits.  These sorts of things are always long and tedious.  I must get around to applying for Disability Retirement lest I pass before making good use of it.  I'm now reconciled to the fact that getting benefits doesn't mean I'll bite the dust in 6 months, although one never knows.  I try not to focus on how I should've done this sooner.  It's complicated and illogical.
In the process of trying to move out of this house, the husband again entertains the idea of entering the housing market.  In response to this I've had to gently nudge him to consider how it would feel to live alone in a big house in a far-off suburb, and just who would care for the cats while he was in timbuktu for 3 or 4 weeks at a time.  He has to accept the fact that I may not last much longer and base our housing choices on the possibility that his needs will change when I go.  I may sound pessimistic, but I can't harbor any fantasies about treatment breakthroughs in the next year.  I hope, but I've started to put my affairs in order…
The world is so fascinating.  So much more I want to see and do.  So many books to read, things to do…I don't understand how it's possible to be bored (although I know all about the boring).  Ah well, desire is the cause of all suffering.

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