It always amazes me how things come to you, right when you need it.
My hands hurt like hell, I wanted to finish the clogs with just one tiny little emblem on the inside of the clog. But I just can’t today. And that frustrates the hell out of me. But I let it go, and focus on something else.
Like dinner. Haha, yep, my other passion. Ramon’s mother is coming to dinner, so I’m making something I know so likes, and plenty of it. But still my hands hurt, making it almost impossible to mash and stir the stew. And now everything hurts, and I’m so incredible tired, so logic conclusion; the seizures are more to the surface now. And only because I was a little too enthusiastic with painting yesterday.
That’s when I decided to pout and browse the internet. And then it happened. Just what I needed. I watched an update of the Hustle Standard, a guy that makes great music. He told about his wife’s disease, and what they were going through. And I just sat there, nodding to the screen. Yes, yes, yes. I so understood what he was telling. Even within the silent breaks. I saw Ramon sitting in his place. And poof!! Gone, the pouting, and the anger. Yes, my body is ill, that’s nothing new. Every day is a struggle, or a new experience… that sounds better. And some days are good and some days are bad. I just need to listen to my body, and act accordingly. So that’s my job.
Ramon on the other hand, has to go to work, work hard every day, and worry his ass of in the meantime. Thinking of me, take care for me emotionally and sometimes physically, getting the bills payed, has to deal with his partner being in pain, joining me to every hospital visit. And still loves me for me, and encourage me in between.
So what the hell am I pouting for?
The sun just cleared the mist, so I will do some last groceries for tonight’s dinner, and buy some pretty flowers. By now you’d probably think the flowers are for Ramon, but actually they are for the house. As an apology, sort of….
We didn’t win the lottery, even when I thought we would win something because of the sign. The sign being the lottery ticket’s number being the same as a house number of a house that’s for sale.
So, sorry house, our house…. Our lovely, perfect little house, we will not leave you. And it was silly of us to believe in signs. The next lottery ticket we will buy, we will just fantasies for lots of other crazy stuff.
Postscriptum:
Didn’t buy flowers. What the hell was I thinking, almost being Valentine’s day. Even the tiniest bunch of flowers were insanely overpriced. Sorry again, house.
I did however bake a vanilla pound cake for Ramon. And I dashed it with a whole lot of loving, so he will taste all the love I feel for him.
…..
Puke…
Hahaha!
But it will taste divine. That’s for sure.
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