Tuesday, July 22, 2008

The To Do List

We're still on a vacation of sorts in this house; Hubs is off until August, Jake and I until September. What to do with all that time together? It's like a perpetual weekend of sorts.

On Sunday we kept our usual "go for a hike" routine. The forest was just brimming with wildflowers so much that in some places they carpeted the floor! Jake and Hubs had a great time throwing pine cones at each other, while the squirrels chattered angrily that we were disturbing their territory.

After the hike, we sat on a deck by the ocean, enjoying ice cream cones as we watched the tourists walking along the beach. I have to say that I'm really, really happy that lactose intolerant Jake can eat ice cream. There's nothing quite as sublime as enjoying a drippy, sweet ice cream cone in July while overlooking the ocean on a sunny day.

Yesterday I tried to pick some salmon berries just off the road a bit. The path that we used to take through the forest is so overgrown that I felt like I was in some jungle movie-all I needed was a machete to hack my way through the bush. There aren't many berries left anyway, except for tiny some stragglers that even the birds won't bother to eat. I'll have to wait for the blackberries in August.

Hubs has designed and started to build a TV stand and two end tables for the living room, since his massive new television doesn't fit in the old one. This is fantastic! We've never had end tables, and Hubs is a great furniture builder, so they are sure to be beautiful. I'm excited!

Jake brought home an unexpected souvenir from our holiday; swimmer's ear. He had been complaining that his ear hurt, but when he said that just the wind blowing on it bothered him, I got him to the doctor. Sure enough, both ears are nicely infected. An hour later, some antibiotics and ear drops (which he is weirdly excited about), and I'm sure he'll be fine.

And me? I'm trying to reconcile what my brain thinks I can do with what I'm actually physically able to do. It goes something like this:

To Do List:

-sweep kitchen floor

-wash kitchen floor (Message to brain from knees, wrists, and back: "This is entirely WAY too difficult for us. You have a Swiffer lady, buy more wet cloths asap and don't even THINK of doing this again." Oh well. I never liked washing the floor anyway. )

-wipe kitchen cupboards

-clean fridge (nothing is moving, so we're good)

-wipe kitchen counters and clean many years worth of crumbs from toaster. ("Oh! So that's where the crumb tray is! I thought I had to just shake the thing!")

-make cookies (do it tomorrow-it's not like we're starving or anything)


-scrub shower tell Jake I'll pay him to do it.

-clean bathroom mirror Tomorrow.

-clean toilet and vanity Yep, tomorrow.

-wash bathroom floor HA! Are you nuts?! Get some Swiffer cloths first.

-vacuum (Hubs did that, all the while complaining that he couldn't find the attachments. But my reasoning is that he vacuums so rarely, why the heck would he need to know where they are anyway? As long as I do, we're good.)

-pot up small basil plants and hope the caterpillars don't eat 'em

-write blog post

-make dinner

-clean up after dinner, but make Jake do most of it. That's what kids are for.

-crash into bed at 8:30 pm

The other day I had a call from the specialist's office, changing my appointment from August to much sooner then I expected. Which is good, right? I've been waiting for months! Hubs is coming with me and we chatted about how much fun we'll have in the city, and the places we'll stop at. We'll make a day of it!

Almost like what the hell, let's party to forget the real reason we're going in the first place!

A few minutes later I was in the bathroom, suddenly filled with nausea at the very thought of knowing. Of that moment when the doctor says, "Oh, by the way, you have THIS."

THIS. Could be life altering, debilitating, life changing. Or it could be something small, fixable. From my own research, I have my own idea of what THIS is and if I'm right, it's not looking good. I'm not being melodramatic-just realistic. It's been 2 years and THIS just keeps getting worse. It's time to know.

I have never wished to be so wrong so hard in my life.

Hang onto the counter. Close your eyes, breathe deep. In your nose, out your mouth. Okay. The rationalizing begins, and goes something like this:

You need to know what has ravaged your body to the point where you can't even wash your kitchen floor anymore, or why some days you struggle with stairs or even holding a stupid piece of toast. Why you are so tired some evenings that you pass out on the couch at 8 pm. You're only 37. This isn't normal. You want to know so you can deal with it. Move on. Get better. Get treatment. Fight, dammit!

You have to know.

Despite all my reasoning, the cold hard truth is that ignorance really is bliss.

I'm terrified to know.

© 2011 Notes From the Cookie Jar, AllRightsReserved.

Designed by ScreenWritersArena