If you're old enough, you'll recognize that as the Dragnet theme. I went to the temple after work tonight. More accurately, I fled to the temple. I got a bit more caught up at work, and the meeting that was scheduled to last about an hour and a half lasted only a smidgen more than one hour, and still I felt fraught: worn to a Ravelling. The temple is the only place where the Adversary can't go. So I went.
And as it happened, I went on the night that the local singles meet to serve the Lord together. I saw the sisters with whom I used to serve when I was an ordinance worker, and the wonderful young woman who brought Beloved and me together, and my dear friend Jody, who has been my mentor through Widow 101, and I did a small act of service for a sister who is on Beloved's side of mortality. All of which was delightful.
But my hips and knees and ankles are screaming, and my left ankle looks as if it had been boiled, and I lovingly but firmly told Middlest when I got home a few minutes ago that while I am delighted to be in our home, and happy to see my kid, I am at about a 5 on the pain scale (which is probably a 9 for normal people), and I don't want to talk, or listen, or visit, or hug. I just want to go to bed and pass out.
I'll feel better in the morning. My spirit is floating on air. But this mortal frame is having none of that. I'll take a full dose of Tylenol instead of the half dose that I take once or twice a year, and I'll brush my teeth, and I'll come back out here to read my scriptures.
My friend at work loved the fingerless gloves that I laid on her chair when I got there this morning. I didn't do it for the thanks (and it's nevertheless fun to hear).
Over and out.
- 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!