Anticipating Monday’s surgery, I’m alternately wishing this week over and that it stretches out endlessly. Over, because I want to get back closer to my old physical fitness; endless, because, I don’t like the idea of anyone cutting me open and rummaging around inside. Or pain. Or recovery period of uselessness. Or Anesthesia. I really don’t like the idea of anesthesia.
I really should start charts at home again for Captain Comic: a homework and homework check chart, a behavior chart, a step-by-step guide to keeping one’s room having a visible floor, a step-by-step guide to bathing thoroughly, a morning schedule, an afternoon schedule.
When I put it that way, I don’t want to do it, either. I want to take him out for ice cream instead.
Come to think of it, I should probably chart myself. I might be more inclined to accomplish more and in a neater environment. But some of us work better with a little mess. The key is keeping it little. Right now, my desk is swimming with papers, books, cameras and sundry other sundries. And I would get a reward at the end of the week. Maybe some really good chocolate. Yes, that would be a good incentive. If I don’t graze on it during the week…
My church is aware of my surgery and wants to sic people on me for a couple of weeks. I suppose I put it out there, but I really don’t want random folks showing up. I will feel like I need to host them, rather than they help me. Besides, there’s the clutter. It’s my clutter. No one else needs to see that.
It’s not like I’m a Hoarder, but we all in this house have stuff. And there are six of us. That’s a lot of stuff. Plus the dog and cat.
Also re: people from church, I know they mean well, but does EVERYONE have to know and ask me about it? Really? Do I have to tell this uncomfortable thing over and over again, to, in some cases, folks I hardly know? I know, I’m blogging about it, but that’s different. I don’t have to look you in the eye. I don’t have to see that mixed look of concern and nosiness. I don’t want to go into the gorey details, it’s just something that needs to be done. Really, my life will be better for it, after the recovery. Yuck - the recovery.
Sorry this isn’t a more uplifting post. I really am not obsessing, just having these thoughts float through my mind, amidst the mayhem. I think, considering my mayhem, they are normal thoughts at this time.
To end on a good note: after the storms on Monday morning, the day brightened up and into the sixties. I got outside. Toots came with, but fell in the pooling mud around the deck. Grandma took her in and changed her clothes, while I did a couple of gardening things and branch clearings. It felt good. Some sun, some honest work with the earth, but not too much, as my back said, ok, that’s enough for now. For once, I listened.