1.23.13         Reaching For Home

Some days you know you should simply not get out of bed. And if you have to get out of bed, you simply know to watch it.

Today was one of those days. I could taste it. I could smell it. I could feel it as I bonked into one thing after another and dropped crap as I tried to make my way out of the house.

I had to go to work. I figured, like the rest of us with lives and bodies and processes, that I would just do the best I could.

After dropping my husband off at work, and him cautioning me on my driving, and me paying extra special attention, I tossed my scrambled egg sandwich out of the car, as it was a very very cold day, and despite it not being a good idea to feed wildlife or throw your food crap out of your car, for some reason I thought some crow or seagull might appreciate it just this one day. The egg smeared down the door of the freshly washed white car. Yellow on white. Charming.

Got my bird food without the old dog territorially peeing on every spot any other dog ever peed on at Daves', for the very very cold-out-of-bird-food-day, and raced home in my blue jeans with pj's secretly under the coat to dole out loads of bird food and suet, and then race in and get dressed and run off to work.

Got out of the car as I smashed an old bone injury on my shin, sat there working on it trying hard not to make a LOT of noise while the pain subsided, made it to the walkway covered with melted and then frozen ice for all my 88 year old and 95 year old clients, sanded the ice and asked the owner to either yellow tape it or fix it.

Ran inside and saw someone with wicked hip pain and a sick dog. Then a man whose gait has been very unstable but is getting excitingly improved. Then an 88 year old whose meds had not been monitored well and got really weak, and I talked him into eating three dandelion leaves a day for edema while they pull his diuretic meds he's been on for 1,000 years. Then worked on his son, while we  problem solved about his dad.  Then the 5 year old whose asthma is just making for the hills and shocking their doctor, playing and us all reading books together while her scoliosis straightens and her gut heals and we all  laugh and she falls on my lap as I drain  lymph and tonify the liver.

Then I went to the coop and smashed into the basket, knocked over cough drops as I gained momentum and attention, put sprouts in my bag which promptly broke open and spilled all over, then put stuff on the check out desk and spilled my lunch, broke something, and dropped my wallet, cards, you name it, building up to a cacophony of sorts. I said "I know, I know , been pushing my luck and need to go land in bed.' Knocked over a few more things, bumped into things (this is called worsening proprioception, as you become increasingly cooked), dropped things, leaving open mouthed interested others as I smashed my way to my car.

No car accident. Almost fell at the library, picking up a pile of requested delicious books for 'Fall over Friday'. Let the old dog wander outside in -500 degrees weather and wind as she pleased, while waiting for my husband to come down to the car. Almost tripped on the snow, the ice, almost caught the dog when she found something wheat-ey and gobbled it down, sore ear infections and eye infections to soon follow, got my husband to drive home so I would not smash or drop or bonk or whack or break or knock over or bump into or crash or flail ....any more.

Somedays we just max out...we're just OFF, off kilter,  off balance, and we know it.  And everyone just does their best to make it through with as few casualties as possible.

 Some days there is some wise remarkable thing that has no words that is processing inside of you, doing something very important, and it steals so much awareness and energy and you wonder what the hell is happening, but then because you were not born yesterday, you have that light bulb moment where you get that somehow, something smart and cool is stealing everything to focus on something important.

And you say, ok, yeah, I hear you, I get it, let me just minimize my expectations of today, let me just get through.

Let me reach home. Reach for the easy good for you dinner. Reach for a book. Reach for peace and quiet and a hot hot bath and watch the spectacular planet turn interminably away from the sun, in an forgettable, completely unique to this day display that has been going on, whether you and I see or not, for gagillions of planetary years.