Yesterday was one of those long days that was not exactly bad, just intense and wearying. LittleBit has a hiatal hernia and a gastroenterologist to go with it; she’s been having increased abdominal pain for the past couple of weeks. There was a cancellation at her doctor’s office, so we got her in yesterday afternoon, rather than the second week of October. So we are thankful.
She now gets to take her medicine twice a day, and we have an appointment for an endoscopy and follow-up appointments with the gastroenterologist. I remarked on the drive home that it must officially be her turn to be sick. Her appetite is understandably “off”, and while she tries not to be a picky eater and loves a wide variety of foods, we never know from one meal to the next what is going to sound good, taste good, and not set off the alarm bells in her midsection.
As we drove home, she said, “Let’s just go get a couple of pints of ice cream and go to bed early.” Worked for me. I sat here at the computer and methodically devoured my ice cream and my favorite blogs, simultaneously. And we were both asleep by 6:00pm. Some days the best thing you can do is just go to your room and pull the covers over your head.
I woke up around 11:15, after my statutory five hours of sleep, threw on my jeans and went next door to pack until I felt sleepy again. Two hours of solid work and much visible progress in my room. I found more magazines to pass on to Secondborn, the card my sister made for me when my divorce was final, the spare key to Lorelai that has been missing for several months, and which I thought for awhile I had given to Brother Sushi for safekeeping, but he said no. And the file folder with documents from both divorces, which had somehow migrated from the file cabinet in the living room to under my bed.
I now have another box of books, nearly full, and another box of stuff to file, ditto, and I will not tell you how many plastic grocery bags of old catalogs that had fallen behind the bed. I still can’t lay hands on my carefully-wound ball of Schaeffer’s Anne in the loveliest assorted dark reds. I am hoping to find it under the pile of half-finished sewing projects that are lying on the floor near my sewing machine. I’ve rechecked the drawers in my rolling carts: one drawer for lace-weight, and two for fingering yarn, and it still hasn’t materialized. [Hey, if things can teleport themselves out of filing cabinets into my old bedroom, why can’t other things mysteriously put themselves away? It could happen!]
For some reason, the ragweed this year is getting to me. LittleBit has been coughing and hacking for days, as if she were not already quite miserable enough, and I had a couple of sneezing fits over at the other place, no doubt exacerbated by the dust from the archeology dig.
I am going back to bed for awhile. LittleBit has the first round of All State Choir auditions later this morning, but we are planning to spend most of the day at the other place, at least until we run out of boxes. And I brought home five new ones when I left work yesterday.
I would really like to have the rest of the loose bits in my room packed up before we go to choir, and then I can spend the afternoon pulling nails and emptying out my walk-in closet, which is mostly full of things already boxed up. All the bedding that I ripped off the bed so that the brethren could take it apart and move it last Saturday is currently blocking that doorway.
And we are hoping that LittleBit’s friend S and his truck and superior upper body strength are available for part of the day; if not, one of my girlfriends at church has a truck. None of what’s left to move is particularly heavy; there are just a lot of boxes but not quite as many as last weekend.
On the knitting front, yesterday was a day of three rows forward, half a row back. I kept finding small glitches, not all of which required tinking. Some of them were fudge-able. I am about halfway through Chart F of Week 4 on MS3, and I might be able to move on to Week 5 in the next couple of days, assuming I can find more printer paper.
I think I will go knit a row or two and then turn out the lights.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!