Honestly, it's more like : how many more days until we move to a place where winter means mid-50s and that's only at night? Because, really, I am over winter. Mid-January is about the time I start feeling SAD because the days are still short, it's still freezing outside and the Christmas decorations that are still up seem so out of place because the Christmas cheer that should accompany them is long gone.
I'm feeling particularly blue today but I think this week has just been one of those weeks. My father-in-law suffered a severe stroke on Monday morning. We are thanking God for excellent and diligent doctors and the good fortune that this was a stroke that caused brain swelling as opposed to cutting off the oxygen supply. Mr. T is reported as having full control over limbs, face and is having coherent and Mr.-T-like conversations as well as even being able to get up and walk around a little. The first twelve hours, though, were on-the-edge-of-your-seat type hours. I'm sure it was even worse for the husband.
And in my little realm of issues, I fell down the stairs again today. You mean I didn't tell you about how I fell down the stairs just a month or so ago? I use the word fell loosely. More like I misjudged how many steps were left and rolled my ankle. As in, my coordination is now that of a wobbly toddler who has just learned to walk but falls flat on their ass every few moments (not quite that bad but it sure feels like it). Last time, I just missed the last three steps entirely and fell straight on to the floor. Fortunately that time, I was carrying an arm full of pillows. Really though, I used to have the coordination of a gazelle. Are they coordinated? It would seem like it. I was so much more aware spatially. Now I can barely stand on one foot. The joy!
I'm complaining?
I am.
It's so much better when it's just pictures accompanied by wistful words.
No, but really. I want me back. The me that doesn't mumble and trip (no pun intended?) over words because I can seem to remember half of the vocabulary I used to know. The me that would get the urge to run and I'd come back refreshed and rejuvenated. The me that used to sleep. The me that wanted five kids - I'm now at zero, but it would be nice to want to want them. I don't even want to want them.
It's late. I'm tired. I usually get really irrational when I'm really tired. It's when the husband and I have our worst fights. When I should just keep my mouth shut.
But really, my list of warm cities to reside in is growing.
I'm feeling particularly blue today but I think this week has just been one of those weeks. My father-in-law suffered a severe stroke on Monday morning. We are thanking God for excellent and diligent doctors and the good fortune that this was a stroke that caused brain swelling as opposed to cutting off the oxygen supply. Mr. T is reported as having full control over limbs, face and is having coherent and Mr.-T-like conversations as well as even being able to get up and walk around a little. The first twelve hours, though, were on-the-edge-of-your-seat type hours. I'm sure it was even worse for the husband.
And in my little realm of issues, I fell down the stairs again today. You mean I didn't tell you about how I fell down the stairs just a month or so ago? I use the word fell loosely. More like I misjudged how many steps were left and rolled my ankle. As in, my coordination is now that of a wobbly toddler who has just learned to walk but falls flat on their ass every few moments (not quite that bad but it sure feels like it). Last time, I just missed the last three steps entirely and fell straight on to the floor. Fortunately that time, I was carrying an arm full of pillows. Really though, I used to have the coordination of a gazelle. Are they coordinated? It would seem like it. I was so much more aware spatially. Now I can barely stand on one foot. The joy!
I'm complaining?
I am.
It's so much better when it's just pictures accompanied by wistful words.
No, but really. I want me back. The me that doesn't mumble and trip (no pun intended?) over words because I can seem to remember half of the vocabulary I used to know. The me that would get the urge to run and I'd come back refreshed and rejuvenated. The me that used to sleep. The me that wanted five kids - I'm now at zero, but it would be nice to want to want them. I don't even want to want them.
It's late. I'm tired. I usually get really irrational when I'm really tired. It's when the husband and I have our worst fights. When I should just keep my mouth shut.
But really, my list of warm cities to reside in is growing.
