Have you ever had something irritating happen and it ended up being an answer to your prayers?
A rash started on my arm yesterday and assuming it was from the MS drugs (long story, which I won't get into details about) I've been on for seven months, I looked up the symptoms for the drug on my health care facility's website. It kind of indicated I should get excited about a rash: "Seek emergency medical care."
So I called the neurologist's office and the nurse was not excited. She told me rashes are rare and the protocol was that I should start with my primary care doc. Being a late morning on a Tuesday, it's not easy to get an appointment, but I did what I was told. Feeling irritated that one resource was concerned, but the neurology nurse was not concerned, I made an appointment with a doctor I had never met because she had an appointment available after lunch and they aren't behind after lunch, which meant I could get in and out in a reasonable amount of time.
After I made my appointment, I was at my computer when the phone rang. It was the nurse, feeling more excited about my rash because she'd talked to the neurologist, who was concerned. The kicker in this whole scenario is they still want you to start with a primary care doc to determine what the rash looks like. I had to laugh - it's a rash, like hives - who knows what it could be from and how would a doctor be expected to look at it and know? After the doctor saw it, she was to call my neurologist and tell him what it looked like. BAHA! I don't know why this is so funny to me, but, "It's a rash," seems like a pretty good description.
To kind of change the subject here, I have not been satisfied with my primary care doctor for years. I've been through a lot of doctors over the years and for some reason my candor seems to frighten doctors. My other beef with many doctors is when I go in with a concern, they just look and me and say, "Well, you're fat." What I really want them to do is disregard my weight and listen to my concerns. My weight is not a surprise to me and maybe my concerns do involve my weight and if it's necessary, we can get to that, but please hear me out first.
My doctor, who is about as big as a praying mantis, has always wanted to give me a big lecture about my weight and I've never let her get that far because most of my concerns were things like sinus infections that she couldn't overlook and had nothing to do with my weight.
She finally had her chance a couple weeks ago when I went in because I was concerned my blood pressure had been higher than normal for the last few months. Of course, when the tech took my blood pressure before the doc came in it was normal.
I didn't know what to say to doctor seeing as how my blood pressure was normal and I was there to talk about my blood pressure. That opened the door for her to give me a lecture about how sugar is toxic (this is not about sugar, I don't need further information for those of you anxious to give me your opinion on my diet or the evils of assorted foods) and if I quit sitting around eating bon bons all day (she didn't say it like that, but that's what she implied) I would lose weight, quit being depressed, feel better and quit coming to her office bothering her about stuff when I'm just fat (again, my words). Then she got online and showed me the video of "Is Sugar Toxic," and sent me on my way with a big smile on her face (that must've been a relief for her to finally get it off her chest.)
She didn't lay a hand on me; she didn't check my heart, listen to my lungs, take my oxygen levels, tap my knees, look up my nose, nothing. I've been wanting to switch doctors, for awhile but how do you pick? You just have to try them out and I hate trying out new doctors.
So yesterday, I had the opportunity to try a new doctor. Let me say, she was fantastic! I went in for a rash, she checked my lungs, asked me questions, listened to my heart. She called neurology, discussed it with them (apparently they wanted to know if it was consistent with a "drug rash). Then I asked her about my blood pressure differences - she actually said she hadn't been up to the hospital for awhile, she'd have to borrow their machine and bring it back to the clinic to check how close they were to each other.
Then I told her of my recent visit about my blood pressure and the results of the visit. She was shocked to hear how I was treated, felt it wasn't respectful to me as a patient, felt sugar toxicity is just a fad, said, "You probably eat less sugar that I do," (she is very thin and fit) and said she believed in moderation in everything. She said, WE'll need to monitor your blood pressure and your rash, like she was already embracing me as her patient. She also said, "Weight is a factor in high blood pressure and if need be, we can discuss that later."
WE still don't know what the rash is, but because of this unhappy incident, I found me a new doctor (yes, the incorrect grammar is what I chose here). I switched this morning.
I had a slow start yesterday before the writing juices were able to flow. But for the second week in a row, I forgot it was laundry day until 9:30am (it's late for me because I'm up and ready to start something at 7:00am). I guess I was so focused on writing my blog and a column, I just forgot it was Monday.
I know 9:30 is not too late to start laundry, but because I like to get it finished in a day (aside from the clothes I hang to dry) and I had to leave the house at 12:15 to take my daughter to a doctor appointment, I decided I'd leave the laundry until today.
If you've followed my blog at all, you know I'm somewhat OCD about laundry: it has to be washed and either dried or hung up in a day; whatever was dried in the dryer must be folded and put away; the second day whatever is hanging up must be folded and put away; if it is sunny and hot enough, it must all be hung (except underwear and towels, which go in the dryer because they can be stiff if you hang them out and no one likes stiff underwear or towels), dried and put away in the same day. When these things happen, as they do most weeks, it has been a good week. When the clothes that are hanging don't come down until later in the week, the whole week is off.
My laundry day has not always been on Monday. It has changed over the years according to our schedules and it often changes in the summer if we are gone for a few days. I don't have a problem with flexibility changing laundry days. But yesterday, I could not get it out of my head that I must do laundry.
My resolve to do it tomorrow, which is today, but was tomorrow when I tried to put off the laundry, only lasted about five minutes. Time was a wastin' if I wanted a good chunk of it finished before I left the house. I even tried to tell myself I didn't need to wash it all yesterday. But I have a small house, with only a laundry hall, and there is no place to store piles of clothes I choose not to wash.
So I sorted the laundry, plotting the timeline the whole time: if I put the jeans in first, hang the ones that need hanging, throw the others in the dryer, it's not a full dryer, so I can put off running the dryer until the second load is finished, which puts me about 10:30-10:45, I can run the 3rd load while the first two loads are in the dryer and I can get the 4th load started as soon as the 3rd load is done even though the dryer isn't finished because I can stack the 3rd load on top of the dryer because it's a load that has a lot of items to be hung, then when the 1st and 2nd loads are finished drying, the 3rd and 4th loads will be ready to put into the dryer and then I can start the 5th load.
You may think I'm crazy, but it worked. It not only worked, but the 5th load was small enough I was able to throw it in the dryer while the 3rd and 4th loads were still drying, thus having it all finished at the same time. I did leave the house for a few hours between the 4th and 5th loads.
I don't know why laundry day is such an obsession with me. Maybe it's because it is a rare constant of family life: laundry must happen.
I usually write my column for the Covington Reporter sometime the week before it comes out and when I don't get a chance, I sit down and write it on Sunday morning after the show "Sunday Morning."
There I sat yesterday morning and nothing came.
On Saturday, my daughters and I went out for some girl time: we saw "The Great Gatsby" [totally awesome and so close to the book and worth seeing on the big screen] then went out for sushi and ice cream. Dad was at a swap meet trading car parts with other car guys, having guy time with the guys as the only guy time he can have with a house full of women. We even saved him some sushi.
Usually, I have a running commentary in my head about subjects I can write on. The whole time I was out with my kids I kept thinking about things I could write. As I think of topics, I sort them in my head, deciding whether I could create a whole column with it.
There were several things that happened; not the least of which was the text I got from my sister. She had come up from Oregon on Friday to see the musical my oldest played in the symphony for, but had to drive back home Saturday morning for some obligations she had at her school in Beaverton.
We were reminiscing about all the trips we had taken back and forth between Washington and Oregon and how McDonald's was our best friend on the drive. In those days we counted 12 McDonald's between my house and hers.
After the musical as we were having our late-night hotdog snack (yes, I still have hotdogs leftover) we began to create a 12-course meal hitting every McDonald's: pre-dinner cocktail of your favorite soda at the first restaurant, hors d'oeuvres of chicken nuggets at the second restaurant, salad at the next, followed by the main course down the road, parfait as a palate cleaner, dessert at the next one, followed by coffee, and a nightcap of a fruit smoothie.
As you can see we didn't come up with 12 courses, but we could probably spread those out even more if we separated the main course into a fry stop and a burger stop. When she went home on Saturday, she counted how many McDonald's we were looking now that it's 20 years later... 27... She counted 27 McDonald's between my house and her house. I think we need to rethink our courses now.
But still, I didn't think I could create a whole column on that; my columns are usually focused on my family life, not advertisements for McDonald's. Although now that I've put it here, I will probably get a lot of website activity with McDonald's in various forms of searches. If so, "Welcome other people who love McDonald's."
Back to Sunday morning after "Sunday Morning," I still had nothing. Even the commentary I just wrote about McDonald's was not in my head. But I didn't panic. I just went about my day: addressed my daughter's graduation announcements, did a few other odd chores, went to church, came home and watched "60 Minutes" and "Call the Midwife" and I waited for inspiration to hit. Nothing.
So when I went to bed last night I still had nothing. I usually send my column to the Reporter on Sunday, but it's not a paid gig and I'm not on contract or anything, so I didn't worry about it. As my head hit the pillow last night about 9:30, my brain suddenly started writing.
It wrote the above McDonald's scenario, then finally something popped into my head to write a column about. I almost got out of bed to write it, but figured if I did I'd be up until midnight. So I filed it in my safety deposit box and went to sleep.
Yes, I still have it in my head this morning. So I better end this and get on that before I have nothing left.
I've been in such a funk this week and I'm not really sure why. It could be any one of the following reasons:
- There is still a month of school left
- My baby is graduating from high school
- I will have to get up earlier to get my youngest to the last three days of school because my oldest will be graduated (unless I can get my oldest to do it because she can't stand leaving the band and wants to be there every morning until school is out).
- There is still a month of school left.
- I have a graduation party to plan and I'm dragging my feet.
- My oldest needs to apply to college starting the 20th (really? is she old enough to go to college?).
- I'm not crazy about my new(er) MS drugs and they and my future are still undetermined (they kind of kicked my butt yesterday).
- I don't feel like figuring out a poker run for my husband's club's car show and it's a job I wish I could be fired from.
- Although I'm anxious for school to be out, I'm not anxious for summer; because of my children's unknown schedule I can't solidly plan anything (except the car shows and who knows if any kids will come with us).
- There is still a month of school left.
- I haven't gotten my writing career off the ground although with the receipt of my $35 dollar check from Houston Family magazine I guess I can call myself a paid professional... sigh.
- Not having my writing career off the ground is no one's fault but my own... double sigh.
- It's 8:27 am and I need a nap.
- Did I mention there is still a month of school left?
Yes, this is a list of upcoming events, tasks and things I have no control over. But like a the train, it's all a comin' whether I'm ready or not. So I might as well come to a place of acceptance.
This reminded me of the Serenity Prayer, which I remember as something like, "the wisdom to control the things I can control and the wisdom to know the difference." So I Googled it so I could quote it properly and found there is a whole other stanza to it:
God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the courage to change the things I can;
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. ~ Reinhold NiebuhrThe second stanza does give me some measure of comfort and acceptance. Nothing I've listed above would I call a hardship; just a matter of coming to peace with the changes that are happening in our lives.However, I know there is one thing I can control right now: a nap. I better get started.
I was up and out of the house early this morning. I took my youngest daughter out to breakfast, for what I kept referring to as her "final meal," to the Testy Chef in Maple Valley.
After breakfast and a quick stop at home for her to brush her teeth and freshen her breath, it was off to the orthodontist to get a full set of braces on. For some reason, I had in my head that it would be as traumatic as getting wisdom teeth out. It wasn't, but there was just something somber about the occasion that warranted a "final meal" and a whole day off of school. Not only that but I had her father take her to the store last night to buy her favorite, sticky candy for a last good chew.
The appointment did take a couple hours, although I could've gotten her to school in time for lunch. But she should at least get some recompense, like the whole day off school, for the "pain," as in pain in the butt braces she'll have for the next two years.
She's done this before; expander and braces, when she was 7 years old. This is phase two that needed to wait until she quit growing, which at 15 1/2, she has. She needed another expander because her top palate needs to be slightly wider and it's the part she hates the most. It really is in the way; stuck to the top of her mouth like a clothing rod in a closet.
We were reminiscing about the last expander she had when she was seven. She got a noodle stuck over the top of it and it caused great panic until she made sure all of it came out. So we discussed the advantages of having a water pick.
My daughter asked me what a water pick was and I told her it was like a pressure washer for your teeth. I will look into getting one tomorrow when I go grocery shopping; it won't replace flossing, but would help with food between braces brackets and certainly make it easier to expel stray noodles from the top of an expander.
In the first phase of braces she only had them on her front, top teeth to close the gap the expander had made. This time, it's a full set top and bottom. I don't know if I've explained before that our dentist thought only one tooth was preventing her teeth from touching on one side of her mouth. But when we consulted with the orthodontist, he wasn't as concerned about the teeth not touching as he was about her bottom, front teeth being tipped back by her top, front teeth, thus poking the roots of her bottom teeth out of her gums.
I had seen pictures of it, but hadn't really looked in her mouth to see the real deal. I woke up this morning thinking, "Is it really that extreme? Does she really need to have all this done?" Then right before we went to breakfast, she pulled her lip down and showed me those roots poking out of her gums. I must've had a weird look on my face, because she asked me if I was going to throw up.
I'm not that squeamish, but it did send shivers up my spine. Remind me not to let my sister, the one who stopped gushing blood in a student's wound with no problem, but can barely hold her lunch down at the sight of a loose tooth. If she thinks a loose tooth is a nauseating sight...
Anyway, here it is, only 11:30 am and I feel as if the day is over already. I think I lived a whole day emotionally for my daughter - gearing up for doomsday trauma like when she had her wisdom teeth pulled - what a let down.
So I asked her what she'd like for dinner and laughingly suggested hotdogs, as I am still the proud owner of 105 hotdogs. She said, "That actually sounds good; how about chili dogs." I can do that.
Rather than D-Day as in Doomsday, I will call it D-Day as in Dog Day; hotdog day that is.
After tracking down the obnoxious smell in my kitchen to the compost and garbage (where else would it be?) and removing said smell, sitting down at my desk, blogging, and starting in sorting a pile of mail, I thought I was all that; organized, being responsible and all.
Then I realized it was laundry day. It was only 9:30 (OMG it's already 9:30); the day wasn't exactly a wash (no pun intended) by then and I had plenty of time to get the laundry done.
After the 1st load had washed, I was pleased to see the sun was out and I could hang the wet laundry on the line. I dressed appropriately for the weather in shorts, tank top and sandals and by then the 2nd load was ready. As I was hanging the 2nd load, my neighbor was out and we were talking about how the forecast was for rain, thunder and lightening. We kind of laughed it off, not believing it was going to get that bad.
When I headed out to hang the 3rd load, I noticed it was cloudier, but I figured at least it was a bit windy and the clothes would still dry. I stepped out on the patio (my clothes hang under the cover of my patio) and saw it was pouring down rain. I contemplated hanging the clothes anyway, because it is the Northwest and if you just wait 15 minutes the weather will change. But not knowing how hard it would rain and knowing there are a few leaky places, I didn't want to have to rewash the clothes, so I brought them in.
Fifteen minutes later, it cleared up a bit and it was fairly warm, so I thought about taking the clothes back out. Then an image of me taking clothes in and out of the house all day, making for a Mr. Bean kind of episode, ran through my mind and I decided to just leave them and future loads to hang dry in the house.
I got an email from a woman willing to buy my extra high school play tickets and I found a coupon for JoAnn fabrics that I knew my daughter could use as she was headed there right after school. So around 1:30, with the laundry pretty much finished and a couple errands to run, I headed out the door in my shorts, tank top and sandals. Sure, it was kind of raining, but I figured, wait 15 minutes, it'll be fine.
I chose to drive a few side roads to get to my destination and avoid traffic. One thing about the area I live in is there are lots of trees. By then the wind had whipped up, the rain was coming in huge drops sideways. My heart rate sped up as branches flew around and trees were bending in the wind.
I had to get out of the car to go into the post office, in my shorts, tank top and sandals because apparently they don't want packages put into the drive-through mailbox. After I got it delivered, I headed out toward the school, taking a side road that wound up by our church. I noticed a small maple tree laying across the opposite lane and thought, "Oh the wind blew it over." As I drove by it, I realized it had been stuck by lighting, splitting the tree in half, leaving a black mark where it had been struck. I wondered if anyone knew there was a tree in the road. Then as I made my up the road, I encountered a fire truck slowly traveling down the road probably looking for the "explosion" someone had reported.
My heart sped up more as I continued on to the school; I didn't know how long ago that tree had been hit. Three main traffic lights were out on my way. The wind kept blowing, the rain came down in torrents, then not, then torrents again. I kind of felt like I was out on some treacherous adventure; taking my life into my hands for the sake of two tickets and a JoAnn's fabric coupon (hey, I saved $17).
When I got to the horizon of the school, the clouds lifted a bit. Then as I sat in the parking lot to wait for my daughter the rain and wind picked up again. My daughter got a quick lesson in how to manage burned out traffic lights, then we went to JoAnn's to get material for her final project in her sewing class.
By the time we were finished, the worst of the storm had lifted, the traffic lights were still burnt out which made the traffic suck on the way home, but we made it back safely. I felt kind of "Indiana Jones" by the time I got home with all the weather extremes and scary tree encounters.
When I drove out around 7:00 to pick my younger daughter up from a friend's house, the sun was popping out again.
Here in the Northwest, we should never be bored, all we have to do is wait 15 minutes.
Since I had already had a Mother's Day celebration for my mother and my mother-in-law on Saturday, I was left alone yesterday to do whateve
But as I think back on most weekends, I am often left alone to do whatever I want until the kids or hubby need something. I think that because yesterday was Mother's Day I allowed MYSELF do whatever I wanted.
Well, that and my family was more in tuned with taking care of me instead of the other way around. My husband and youngest went out and got my favorite snack (pea crisps) and mini cinnamon buns at Costco, my favorite pizza at Papa Murphy's (cowboy), and a huge, gorgeous bouquet of flowers, which my youngest daughter put in water and left in my bedroom for me to enjoy all day.
My youngest also made me a card with Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on it that said "'Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'The smallest things take up the most room in your heart.'" (reminiscent of my babies who will always be little in my heart). Then when she and my husband were at Papa Murphy's she picked up the card Papa Murphy's has out for little kids to make for their mothers. She colored and wrote on it as she would have when she was five. It was cute.
I laid around in my bedroom all day watching period movies on Netflix (in the chair I got a few months ago that I told my husband he was gifting me for Mother's Day and my birthday). I love movies about the earlier centuries; the way of life fascinates me and really takes me out of my own reality for the length of the movie (see "Albert Nobbs" if you haven't already; it made my oldest cry and it was sad, but I didn't cry, however I'm not a teenage girl with PMS).
So why do I have the Mother's Day blues? Because I want to do it again today; I want to lay around and watch period movies instead of dealing with the pile of mail I've been ignoring for the last week (probably longer considering the size of it). I want to eat my favorite snacks instead of figuring out what's for dinner and I want everyone else to take care of me again.
In short I don't want to be responsible today either. Sigh. Happy Mother's Day.
I made it through the agony of de-feed!
It wasn't really agony, but it's a clever title, don't ya think? And I'm pretty good at suffering the agony way before I ever get to the actual event. It was actually quite fun to go and feed the cast and crew at the high school. All the kids were polite and grateful for the food (I really need to make sure I go out in public every day or at least every other day so I can remember the world isn't such a scary place.)
It may have been because it was the first feeding, but we only had about half as many (give or take a few) kids as we expected. Not because those kids aren't part of the cast and crew, but maybe they thought we were kidding about feeding them and didn't show up. Talk of the great dinner they had last night may spread (kids love hotdogs) and the hoards may show up (not that they will hoard the food as I've already proven; however when given free reign, some of the boys consumed five+ hotdogs).
I still have a ton of hotdogs left over. I thought I was buying 5-lb packages with 25 hot dogs in each package, like the first package I opened. After I cooked up the initial 25, beautiful, nice-sized hotdogs, I opened the next package and they were a skinnier version of the ones I had just cooked. I looked at the package and it was 5-lb with 40 thinner hotdogs.
They were not nearly as beautiful, but they did the job. But now, with less kids and a higher hotdog count (per package), I am the proud owner of 100+ hotdogs. I find myself begging to be able to feed them again just to get rid of the hotdogs. I don't think the store will take them back, especially because now they are in the freezer.
I also bought 3 containers of potato salad of which they didn't even make it through one, so the potato salad will come back out today to go with the next feeder-mom's sub sandwich feed.
I had about 12 hotdogs left over and no matter what my husband thought, we did not need 12 cooked hotdogs sitting in our fridge, so I started pimping them out. Four football players walked by and.... well you know the rest.
So the agony of de-feed wasn't agony at all. Sometimes the monsters are scarier at home.
During the weeks when I haven't been out of the house for a few days, like I mentioned in yesterday's post, I feel like this cat... I've seen the end.... and I have trepidation about going out. It's times like that I should remember not to make any sudden moves or I will regret it later.
Like yesterday, before I left the house to go shopping for food to feed the high school cast and crew, I shot off an email to the symphony and drama directors about how I expected the kids to be polite and respectful and to make sure they only take one portion so there is enough food for everyone. I checked my email right before I left and the symphony director said they would mention it to the kids, but how was he to know they would hoard food if we hadn't even had a meal with them yet. I replied that I didn't know either, but I had been warned and was just trying to make it an enjoyable experience for all involved.
I have never fed a cast and crew before, but I was taking it on the word of the woman who coordinated the meals. She warned us in an email to monitor the kids when they were dishing up. That didn't alarm me and I figured I'd do my best. But my husband came home from the school a couple nights ago, freaking out because he had personally talked to the woman; he kept harping on the severity of the situation (to what end, I am not sure), but my stomach dropped and my heart rate sped up.
So when I left the house with the warning about feeding the kids (wild boars by that time) on my mind and what I felt was chastisement from the symphony director, I really felt as if I had seen the end and no one would be spared; most especially not me.
Then I was trying to connect with the mom who would be serving meals the day after me. I asked for extra crowd control help on my day and I would help with her day. Then I jumped in the shower to begin my doomed day. She called back while I was showering and left a message saying she'd be there the next day to help me. Then I called her back (keep in mind my stress level was vein popping by this time) and she didn't answer. So I left a message telling her I just wanted to complain and I'd call her back later since I was about to leave the house.
I went to Cash and Carry (it's the cheapest place to buy just hotdogs, as opposed to the fancier options Costco carries). As I finished buying the food, realizing I really could feed 60 people on $100 (that's at two hotdogs each and potato salad), my stress level dropped by half. And knowing it will ultimately come out to less money, because I like to make sure there is enough, so I will most likely have food left over, further aided in placating my fears.
But there was still that email from the symphony director who (in my mind) now hated me and the crazy message I left the other mom. I felt I then needed to smooth some feathers (again, in my own mind).
I called the other mom back, she still didn't answer (I wouldn't have answered me either), and I invited her to coffee and told her which Starbucks I'd be at if she was available. She never showed up, but as I sat there, I further de-stressed (maybe it was all the hotdogs I had in my car or the free breakfast sandwich I scored because of Starbuck's mistake; I'm sure it wasn't the triple cappuccino) and read a Seattle Times someone had left behind.
By that point, feeling much less stressed, but not ready to go home because of my newly relaxed self, I started to feel a little reckless. I had read the comics in the paper and was mentally doing the little word puzzles, when I had a madcap idea: I grabbed a pen and actually did the puzzles for real in a paper I did not own. I filled in the Jumble, then having quickly worked through that I gained more confidence and did the word find, which involved circling every letter of every found word to come up with the secret word. When I was finished and no one had said anything derogatory about my blatant act of newpaper-puzzle- definance, I got up and deposited the paper back in the free paper basket for others to read, but NOT enjoy the word puzzles.
When I got home, there was an email from the drama director thanking me for reminding him to talk to the kids about food hoarding (because he has eaten with them before) and an email from the symphony director with an understanding reply to my reply. Getting the assurance I needed so badly that I was not out of line with my initial email, I let the stress completely go (well, most of it, because I have yet to actually cook).
This is the way my brain works most of the time; it's okay if you are thinking you are glad you don't live with me. But my husband can carry the blame for some of my stress; it did not help that he was freaking out the other night and I had to yell at him to stop.
What the real message is, I should try and get out more. Because when I don't, no one is spared, not even the children.
Last night when I went out to grill something for dinner, I realized I had not been outside since the night before when I went out to grill something for dinner.
The weather was so pleasant at 70 something degrees compared with Monday's 80 something, that I reset the table outside so we could sit out and enjoy the afternoon while we ate our meal. It was indeed beautiful.
This morning I need to go out and buy food to feed the cast and crew of the high school's musical and it struck me that I haven't been out of the house for two days, except to grill. But that's not really out of the house, the patio is an extension of my house.
It feels weird knowing I haven't been anywhere for that long; does that mean I have no life? I'd like to say I got an incredible amount of things done not leaving the house for two days, but when I look around, it all looks the same. It didn't help me at all to stay in.
I know when my neighbor came over to buy tickets for the musical I kept her standing in the entryway for way too long as I told her about the musical, my daughter graduating, and whatever else came to mind. I would have asked her to sit down, but she didn't come for a visit, just to buy tickets and she still had her nurse uniform on, so she was probably trying to leave so she could relax the rest of the evening.
She's probably lucky that a girlfriend had stopped by earlier that day and we had chatted for an hour or my neighbor would've gotten the version of me that hadn't talked to other adults for two days.
It didn't occur to me how pathetic that was until I just now started writing it. Not only that, but I stood there talking to her at 5:30pm and had yet to take a shower that day, so my hair was still in the bedhead state, which also meant that my family had to look at me like that during dinner. Good thing we sat outside instead of inside so at least they had the yard to enjoy.
Now that I must go out and buy food, I'm trying to negotiate with myself: maybe I could just buy the food tomorrow since I don't have to cook for them until tomorrow; maybe I should rethink the menu to something already cooked, so I can just order it and pick it up on my way; maybe I could just have it delivered and not show up at all...
Okay, none of these things are viable, I'm just going to have to suck it up and go out. There is life beyond the grill.