TMI Bracketed Warning:
I feel like a slug. I feel like a sick slug actually. How much is due to the stress of Ba taking up room in my brain plus how much is due to the changes in time or fiber…med of choice for IBS. I do think it’s the fiber. I need to be perky and supportive of G right now, instead I am lumpish and in pain. I do not want to go back to the high sugar fiber, or the orange flavored fiber, but various versions of the plain and no sugar fibers are not working.
He’s up way before anything imaginable, puts on his version of a uniform, gives me a kiss, and is out the door by five. They’ve authorized overtime, so he’s staying current with the Special Projects by adding one hour a day while starting his new job training.
Today I am heading off breakfastless and medless behind the wheel of a vee-hickle to get a gallon of blood drawn. Am I impressed? Nope, but I have put this off long enough. Stalled. Procrastinated. Did I say that.
Later I’ll finish the living room. It is slowly inching its way from blue to red. I do this every year appreciating the psychology of blue trimmings for a hot day and warming reds on a cold day. We may have one or two more Santa Ana’s, but we are inching into red weather here. So I have the red pictures, pillows, and red accessories out. The blue stuff is packed away. I told one of the guys I work with at the Cancer Society that I redecorate by switching pillow covers and little things, and he looked at me incredulously.
“You do what?”
And to compound the felony, I bought, with G picking it out, a Laurel Burch cat pillow. How decorative can one get in one’s old age.