Monday, January 16, 2012
The race is long, and in the end, only with yourself
I did the dishes today. I've been feeling droopy and like dragging my knuckles through the dirt. I don't know, I'm tired and all broken out in a burny, itchy hive due to this antibiotic that the surgeon prescribed to me after I got loads of infection in my jaw after the dry socket after the wisdom tooth was removed. *phew* A little reminiscent of There Was an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly, just not near as funny. Anyway, so dragging the knuckles lots. But earlier, I decided that it was time to do something. I chose the dishes.
I'm glad I did. It was refreshing. All the while, my husband hung out with me in the kitchen. I'm lucky. I am. I've sang about it here before. I bet it's too sappy to keep saying it, but he's the perfect counter to my crazy. He's good and easy going and stable - and we pass the baton. It's usually me who feels a tinge of gray, but when he does, I go all stable and calm. It's a good working thing. We're homeostasis, mostly. The days we aren't, it's like the universe is tilted out of whack and volcanoes are accidentally fuming and rivers are running backward.
So, while I was washing dishes and he was hanging with me, he gets up and says, "I need a q-tip". He walks, grabs one, does his ear thing and comes back to me, near the sink. That's how life is around here. And it's good.