Some weeks ago, I got the idea that I’d run out of things to say, and I couldn’t manage to convince myself otherwise no matter how many times every morning I tried to make myself sit down in front of the computer and write. In truth, I was (and am) just in the middle of an extended period of time during which there were a lot of other things that I wanted or needed to do instead. Also, I was more than a little daunted by that early feature on WordPress Discover. (I’m still not sure how one comes back from something like that, but I’m determined to press on, no matter how infrequently.) But anyway. A lot of excuses: First, I had a new computer. Then I had the CRAZY idea to do a completely overhauled and entirely modded version of my Sims 2 game and then play it until me or my Sims families (or both) were dead. I got it set up, played a half generation, and then decided I missed crocheting and needed to be doing that since I was also trying to quit smoking for the fifty thousandth time. I quit smoking, crocheted a little, watched way too much West Wing and ate about a million Sixlets, and then I decided that what I really needed to do was to go back to Apple Music, since we already had a family subscription and I had convinced myself that I had to have a little new music to supplement my regular 30,000 song library. (I am–it’s true–a nutcase.) This led to a crazy-epic edit of all my Apple Music playlists (which were about a year old), as well as the ongoing quest to make the “Perfect Playlist,” which I have always felt I was born to do and have yet to accomplish.
And then a week ago — at least partially owing to the fact that Mama’s phone was about to poop out and I needed to give her my 6s plus post haste — I went to AT&T and got the new iPhone 8 plus. It’s great, I love the thing, I should write it a freaking ode or something, but so far me and it are just sitting in the house being pretty much useless. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if the purchase was at least partially borne of the same manic inability to sit still that spawned all of the above behaviors. At the time, I was preoccupied with worry about my husband, who was about to go under the knife…when I get like that, my tendency is to flit from thing to thing in order to keep my brain away from whatever it is that I don’t want to think about. So I bought the phone, played with it till I got bored, and then started looking for books to put on the Kindle and new movies for the Apple TV. And so and so and so on until the day of surgery arrived.
Well, it’s been eight days ago now that Hubby had way too many surgeries at the VA (tonsillectomy, adenoidectomy, and septoplasty), and–up until today–he’s been utterly miserable. I’m no longer worried about some far-fetched complication from surgery, but until this morning, I was constantly preoccupied with keeping his pain level below an 8 using solely children’s Tylenol and Italian ice (okay, so there was also an entirely insufficient amount of narcotics in the mix, but they were only happening every six hours, so they’re hardly worth mentioning). In order to keep him elevated and make breathing a little easier, we’ve been sleeping on the couches in the living room since last Friday, and although I miss my bed SO MUCH, I still feel like I need to be where he is to make sure he’s okay and taking his meds when he’s supposed to. A few nights ago, I left him in charge of doing it and the damn fool decided to skip the nighttime dose of the narcotic (because “I’m a man, baby”) and later woke himself up screaming, so obviously that’s not going to happen again. But I’m not so awfully worried about all that at this point. His pain is suddenly much more manageable. He’s getting better. Honestly, I just miss my husband, even though I’ve been looking at him day in and day out for a week. The thing is, he’s so sick, sometimes it’s like he’s a whole other person. He lost 15 pounds in three days, and there’s a look in his eyes that I can’t quite explain that makes him seem much older than he is and so very fragile. It took me a really long time to find him, and that look scares the shit out of me. Plus, he’s just too quiet. And he forgets to stare at me just because he wants to or to take my hand in his whenever he can. I’m hoping that he’s about to come back to me a little, though. He ate one of his mama’s homemade brownies today, and the look on his face was positively gleeful.
And so, it’s nine o’clock at night, and I’m trying to convince myself—again—that I’m really going to devote myself to this blogging thing again, beginning with the posting of this entry, which has admittedly been sitting in my drafts folder for four days. Really, I’m going to do it this time: something decent (and almost entirely self-centered) to read at least a couple times a week. I promise.
In the mean time, here’s a photo from this past week, as the kids gathered around us in the living room. I love all the blankets, and not just because I made a couple of them.