On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

When I was little, the two saddest days on the calendar were September 4, and December 26.  The day after my birthday, and the day after Christmas: the most anti-climactic days imaginable.  Nothing sternly whispered, "It's over," like those two dates.  All those weeks of anticipation and preparation and upcoming celebration, and then, it's over.  Go back to school, go back to work, blah blah blah.  The decorations would come down and the long, boring school year (in September) or winter (in December) would begin.  

Perhaps that's why I'm never in a rush to take the Christmas decorations down.  Not that I have many up this year -- the vast majority of my Christmas decorations were destroyed in The Flood and haven't been replaced yet because I hate paying full price for things and I also hate shopping immediately after Christmas; go figure -- but I did hang a couple strings of lights, and set out some shiny things, and found one of my favorite Scentsy warmers that happens to be Christmas-themed.  Soon enough I'll take these things down and pack them away until next year.  But not until at least January 5, because that's the 12th day of Christmas.  In the past, I've kept the decorations up until the middle of January, because that's when the boy was born so why not keep the tree up until his birthday?  Alas, I didn't put a tree up this year, and the boy doesn't even live with us anymore.  I guess the bottom line is that I'll take my decorations down when I feel like it, and not a moment before.  :D

I have the day off today.  It's our Christmas holiday day, since the actual holiday fell on the weekend.  So yeah, I'm definitely not complaining about life or my job today 😍.  A day off without using PTO? Yes, please!  Of course, last night as I was falling asleep I had all these ideas of things to do: hit the basement floor with the carpet cleaner, set up my sewing machine, organize my craft supplies, go to the old house and pick up some more things to bring here (the end is in sight, at least for the stuff we have inside the house; don't ask about the barn or the garage for a while), go through the rest of my clothes and sort out what can be donated.  So what have I actually accomplished?  I slept until 9am, had banana bread for breakfast, parked my butt in my living room chair for a while, and played games on my phone, until about noon.  Then I started some laundry, swept the floors, unloaded the dishwasher and loaded it back up again, cleaned the air fryer, changed the bedding, took out some garbage, packed away some Christmas gift bags to reuse next year, and went through some more of my clothes to sort out what can be donated.  Apparently the roads are bad out there, so I decided to stop at the boy's house and pick up more stuff another day this week.  I had leftover egg bake for lunch.  Oh em gee, egg bake is the most perfect dish ever!!  Every time we have it, I think we should have it more often.  Yet I never do anything about that.  To quote Homer (Simpson), "Well, excuse me for having enormous flaws that I don't work on!"

Speaking of which, the last few days I have had incredible sewing cravings.  I just want to make something -- some curtains, a table runner, a queen-sized quilt for our bed, you know, something useful -- but I don't know what.  That's why one of my goals for today (last night when I was trying to fall asleep) was to set up my sewing machine and organize my stuff so I could actually make something again.  It's one of those cravings that feels like I should let it build up a little bit more, first, so that when I do attack the craft supplies, I will actually get things done instead of just poking around a little bit until I get bored. Know what I mean?  

But there is one enormous flaw that I have been working on, thankyouverymuch.  I've never been great at keeping up with housework.  I was the kid always getting yelled at to clean their room, so I can assure you this has been a lifelong struggle.  I love having a nice, clean, organized home, I just don't like doing the work to keep it that way.  I always used to joke that I was missing the gene that makes women (or men) instinctively want to keep things neat and tidy and presentable.  I've now come to realize that a lot of the struggle was probably due to depression.  There are lots of ties to depression and the state of my home, actually.  When it's nice and clean and organized, I feel like I have my shit together and am functioning more like a normal person, and life in general doesn't seem so overwhelming.  There are still moments, of course -- there will always be moments! -- but overall, knowing that I can keep my house clean gives me hope for the rest of my life, whatever other struggles I am currently up against.

So I'm beyond proud to admit that I've kept this house clean since we moved in, one month ago!  I know it's only a month, but it's a start.  It bothers me now when the hamper is full, or there are crumbs on the countertops, or dishes in the sink or even in the dishwasher.  It's so easy to keep up by doing a little bit every day, here and there, before I sit down and play games on my phone or watch TV or anything like that.  And waking up to a clean house is one of the best feelings on earth!  Especially on days like today when I get to plant my tired butt in my favorite chair and just veg out and not do anything until I feel like something needs to be done.  I worried that once we got real furniture, I'd be more inclined to sit on my butt and do nothing more often and the housework would start to slide again, but that hasn't been the case at all.  I even feel bad if I don't put the clean clothes away right after taking them out of the dryer.  CRAZINESS!

Speaking of which, I just let the dog out and realized the steps and sidewalk are still covered in snow.  I think I'll go out and take care of that now.  Then take care of the random tote of stuff that's in the kitchen.  And then? Who knows.  The world is my oyster! My nice, clean, organized oyster!

TTYL

Closing in on week 4. I think.

Well, it's been almost an entire month in the new place.  It doesn't feel like a big, empty house anymore.  It looks and feels like a "recently moved into" house.  There are a few areas that are set up and nice and decorated, yet there are also random boxes and totes on the floor, and things that don't have homes yet.  The back of my Equinox right now has about five big bags of stuff to go to the Goodwill one of these days, and every week so far our garbage bin has been completely filled.  We have a nice mountain of cardboard waiting to be burned this spring, too.  

As overwhelming as the task of going through literally everything we own and finding new places for it (whether in our house, in the trash, or in the back of the 'Nox) (oh and occasionally but rarely, into someone else's house) can be, it does feel good to go through, take a mental inventory, and declutter.  It can help one discover a lot about oneself.

For instance: I have a lot of pens.  There, it's official.  Admitting the problem is the first step to solving the problem, right?!  I don't know when my pen addiction started.  I think I've had it forever.  I remember being in middle school junior high school and even late elementary school and being enamored with pens.  Pens with colorful inks, pens with scented inks, gel pens, funky-shaped pens.  I had a bracelet that was also a pen once.  And a pen shaped like a hip bone (wish I could find that now, I'd give it to my mom!).  And pens that looked like silverware, real life-sized forks and spoons and knives only they were pens.  These days, I'm way more into how pens write than how they look.  You know, being that I'm older and wiser and stuff...function means more than fashion.  

Do you want to know how many pens I've found during this move?  

When I was packing up the stuff from my old desk, the one drawer was like 95% pens. Perfectly good pens, but I didn't like the way most of them wrote, so they weren't in rotation.  As I envisioned myself putting all those pens into a box to bring them to a new place where they would likely sit and never be used, it occurred to me that I might have a problem.  (HA HA HA!  Nah, it occurred to me long before then. It also occurs to me every time I go out to eat and the person I'm with warns me not to steal the waitresses' pen.  For the record, I don't steal waitresses' pens; but I just might replace them with another pen from my collection. Except if it's a gel pen; it's not even funny to consider copping someone else's gel pen.)  I ended up leaving a handful of them for the boy (with his permission), taking a handful with, and *gulp* throwing away the rest.  Also, by a handful, I mean quantity-wise, 5 or fewer, not as many as I could scoop up in one hand.  BIG difference.

Now, don't start telling me that I shouldn't have thrown them away, I should've saved them and donated them somewhere.  I've done that, plenty of times.  I just didn't that time because I was on a mission to declutter, not to pass the clutter to someone else.

Besides, that was just one drawer! Just the tip of the iceberg, as they say.  A drop in the bucket.  

So, then I was unpacking things, namely tote bags and purses.  Going through and emptying them before I put them away, because I also have the undesirable habit of not unpacking purses or tote bags before I switch to different purses or tote bags.  (I don't have issues, I have subscriptions.)  Found more pens!  Most of them weren't worth keeping, but I did find the mother lode of Baldwin Area Medical Center pens.  It's funny, I could tell which era of my life I had used the particular tote bag or purse by the types of pens I found in them.  I found pens dating all the way back to nursing school.  So the BAMC pens were a nostalgic little find, and of course I couldn't throw them away because BAMC doesn't even exist anymore.  That makes them...COLLECTABLES!!  Alright, alright; I'm mostly kidding, but also not because those were some smooth-writing pens.  I kept a handful of them.  Actually, the "mother lode" was only a handful anyway. 

Right now, in a box next to my desk, waiting to be sorted and unpacked/tossed, is a box of random office things.  Including a gallon-sized bag of pens.  Not just a few pens; it's stuffed full of pens.

But wait!  There's more!  When I was on the Tote Bag and Purse Cleanout kick last week, I actually found a tote bag that was literally full of pens. Read that again: a TOTE BAG FULL OF PENS.  And not a small little tote bag, of course.  That is actually the point where I decided to be done going through tote bags for the time being.  So. Many. Pens.  It was too much to contemplate at that moment.  

I should just toss them, or donate them (I do prefer to donate them, and the hubby pointed out that he can never find a pen at church when he needs one, so...) but as I mentioned earlier, I love a good pen.  What if my new favorite pen is in that bag?!?  I have to look to be sure.  I'm down to one cup of pens on my desk, but I can always switch one of those pens out if I find one I like better.  

I. Do. Not. Need. More. Pens.

I. Do. NOT. Need. More. Pens. EVER!!

To answer the question I posed, about if you want to know how many pens I've found during this move, I have no idea.  A lot.  Too many.  It doesn't seem like it's going to be a problem at first, because pens are so small and fit in so many convenient places, and you can tell yourself they're practical things because there's always someone somewhere who needs a pen when they think they won't.

But when you have a freaking tote bag full of pens -- each one different and unique, it's not as if the whole tote was full of boxes or bags of pens like you'd buy them at the store -- you begin to realize that maybe you don't need to collect them like souvenirs from every place you go.  That just because a company is giving them away doesn't mean you need to take one.  Even if they look cool.  You know what?  The novelty pens write like crap, and I can say this from a lifetime's worth of experience. 

My favorite pen is the good ol' BIC Crystal, in blue. The ones you can get a whole package of for like $1.00 during back-to-school sales.  Best pens ever!!  The next runner-up is the BIC Round Stic.  They don't make 'em like they used to, but they're still a great pen.  Also in blue.  I'm not a fan of black ink.

Speaking of pens, I gotta get back to work. This has been another sneak peek into the craziness that is my mind.  Today's blog entry was sponsored by BIC, Pentel, and Uniball.  They just don't know it yet.

Everyone says I'm looking great, but it's hard to stand up, let alone to try and concentrate...

Today's title and pic are brought you by the letters B, N, and L.  

Which reminds me, we haven't been to any concerts lately.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog entry here, we secured tickets (and in some cases, airfare and hotel reservations) for three separate and much-anticipated concerts back in 2019.  Then 2020 happened, as you're likely well aware, and all three shows (actually it's four shows, but three different artists.  We have tickets for two shows by the same artist.  And the one concert is actually slated to have three bands, or was it four?  I'm not into mathing today.) were postponed until 2021.  

The point I'm trying to make is, we didn't go to any concerts in 2020.  

And in 2021, I think we just went to one concert. We saw Casting Crowns in concert at the MN State Fairgrounds -- and again, because sometimes technicalities are my thing, more specifically it was in the Midway parking lot.  It was a drive-in concert, because indoor venues hadn't opened back up yet.  It wasn't quite the same, because we were sitting in the car listening to the concert being broadcast on the radio (it was cold that night, so we didn't stand outside like a lot of people were) but it still counts as going to a concert.

For 2022, we will hopefully be able to finally use those tickets we bought back in 2019!  At least a few of them.  One of the tours was cancelled altogether and the tickets were refunded.  But now we have tickets to a concert that never happened!  That'll be worth something someday, right?!  😆  I've been to enough rock n' roll museums to know that unused tickets to concerts that were cancelled are worth their weight in gold. Um.  If they're rare, and by well-known artists, and all that.  I'm pretty sure no one else has tickets from concerts that were cancelled in 2020, so I'm golden.  Alright, so I won't quit my day job.  Yet. 

I remain hopeful for the two remaining tours that were rescheduled for 2021 then cancelled again and are now rescheduled for 2022.  Three shows, two tours, four (or was it five?) different bands total.  

I wish I would've saved all the tour books I bought at the first few concerts I went to, though.  I don't even know when they stopped doing tour books; it feels like I'm dating myself by even mentioning tour books.  Of course, this was way back when you couldn't take pictures at concerts without being all ninja-like and sneaking a camera in, and then afterward waiting for a week or whatever it was to get your film developed to see how (or if!) the photos turned out.  How did we survive back before digital photography?!  So much waiting.  Because one-hour photo developing was way out of my budget back then, I tell you what.  Not that I ever snuck a camera into any concerts, because I had a huge Fear of Getting Caught.  (Actually, it's more of a Fear of Disappointing People in Authority. Maybe I'll save that for a future blog topic.)  That's why I loved the tour books so much.  I loved photography as well; that's probably another reason why I didn't try to sneak my camera into concerts, because I didn't want to risk having my precious camera taken away.  They didn't exactly grow on trees, you know.  One more thing about film photography: I was always annoyed that the people developing the film would get to see how my pics turned out before I did.  That was so not fair!  Photography is an art, and what other artists have to let other people see their finished product before anyone else?!  Hmph.  So as you probably already know if you know me at all (or have perused my FB), I still enjoy photography.  The fact that I have a camera on my person at all times (that also happens to function as an internet-accessing device and, oh yeah, a phone) amuses me muchly.  And every now and then I take some halfway decent pics, too. 

I'll have to finish this later, after work.  Toodles!

(Nineteen hours later...)

...speaking of photography, I actually got out of bed at oh-stupid-o'clock this morning (translation: 4am) just to take a couple of pictures.  After which, I went right back to bed.  

I spent a good part of the night wondering why the backyard floodlight was on last night.  Our new house has some strange electrical quirks.  Not "strange" as in we should be worried that the house is going to short circuit and burn down (I hope!) but "strange" as in, this place has more light switches and electrical outlets than other house we've inhabited.  It probably has as many light switches as all our previous homes put together, and I'm only slightly exaggerating.  I think we have most of them figured out by now (closing in on week 3!) but the logic behind them is still a bit perplexing at times.

For instance, in our living room we have a switch that activates only the top input (probably not the right terminology, but dammit, I'm a nurse! Not an electrician!) on each of the outlets in that room.  Now, I'm familiar with the concept of having an outlet or two wired to the toggle switch, especially in rooms without ceiling lights, so that you can have a lamp plugged into that outlet and turn it on and off with the wall switch.  But I'd never heard of wiring only the top plug-in thingies of each outlet.  The first time I tried to vacuum the living room, I was disheartened thinking none of the outlets worked because I was only trying the top input thingie.  My hubby mentioned this to an electrician he works with and was informed that this was a popular trend in the early 2000's.  Who knew?!  

Another example is the three light switches that are next to the patio door in the dining room upstairs.  One switch turns on the chandelier above the dining room table -- that makes sense.  The next switch turns on the light outside, which probably has a specific name other than "decorative light next to the door".  That also makes sense.  The third switch turns on an outdoor flood light that's down on the lower level, and lights up the yard closest to the house.  Ummm...okay, but why wouldn't they have put that switch on the lower level instead?  It's a walkout basement on that side, and the basement is completely finished.  There's a switch down by the basement patio door that turns on the decorative light just outside that door.  I don't know, to each their own I guess.  

This is relevant, I promise. Because while I was trying to fall asleep, there was a bright light on our windows that was distracting me.  I figured I had accidentally turned that light switch on when I was turning the dining room lights off, or something.  (Actually it was more like "or something".  After the storm the night before last, our TV antenna wasn't working; and neither was the outside outlet on the top deck. This I know because I have a string of twinkling lights plugged in there and wrapped around part of the deck railing, and those lights weren't twinkling yesterday morning! It didn't seem like the two should be related, but it was an odd coincidence that those were the only two things not working after the storm and power outage.  Long story short, they were related. The antenna booster and the outside top deck outlet are both on the same GFCI outlet.) (And I totally did not just Google that to make sure I was using the term correctly.)  

So when I woke up at about 1am to empty my bladder, I peeked out the bedroom window.  The flood light wasn't on; the moon was just that bright.  See?

But that's not the shot I pulled my tired self out of bed to take, a few hours after I made that discovery.  No, I took this one while lying in bed.  

The one I actually got out of bed and made a half-awake effort to take looks more like this:

And it made me think of that line from "Twas the Night Before Christmas" that goes, "The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, gave a luster of midday to objects below."

Of course, it's NOT the night before Christmas, but that's not in the specific line I have stuck in my head now, so it works.  

And, I totally didn't Google the words to make sure I had them right, either, which is good because I thought the moon was on the crest of the new-fallen snow, not the breast.  Wouldn't I have looked silly with that mistake!?

Then, after I took the above pics (and one more very similar to the second one, but in landscape orientation) I tried to go back to sleep but for some reason my brain decided we should try to remember as much of that poem as we could.  (Which, after looking at the poem in it's entirety this morning via Google, we didn't accomplish very well.)  Which then lead to me wondering why I would think I knew that poem well enough to recite it by heart, anyway?  We certainly didn't have the Christmas tradition I've only read about in fictional stories (and/or maybe the Little House books) where the family sits around the fireplace on Christmas Eve while the patriarch reads the poem to the eager listeners before sending them off to bed.  (Do people actually do that in real life?)  No, I remember reading it for myself when I was little.  Over and over and over and over, because I was young enough that things like "the moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below" sounded nice and poetic and beautiful, but I had no idea what they actually meant.  I mean, I knew what each word individually meant, and I got the general idea in context, but I didn't understand the image those words were painting until about 1am this morning. 

And on that note, it's about time for work to start.  Yes, I'm blogging before work today, because I didn't want to leave this entry unfinished. I hate it when that happens.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Just when things went right, doesn't mean they were always wrong...

Week 2, and the new place is starting to feel more like a home and less like a big, empty house.

I got in a mood last week and put twinkling Christmas lights up in the bay window. That definitely helped! I just positively adore Christmas lights.  It gets dark outside so early, it's nice to have a bit of light here and there.  And everything is so white and dormant outside, it's nice to have a bit of color and flashing, too.  Within reason.  I like lights around windows, maybe wound around railings, maybe around a tree or two outside.  I don't like the houses that have their roof lines outlined in lights and every window outlined in lights and light-up everything in their yards, and everything flashing and chasing and all that.  I like precisely placed strings of lights.  Precisely placed by ME, lol.  I can't explain it other than that.  I would have lights up all year round if I could, and sometimes I do (see also: the back deck at our old house).  

I think the kitchen is "done" meaning just about everything from the old house is moved over.  Things are pretty well organized and decorating is off to a good start.  The hubby and I cleaned the dishwasher last night -- I mean really cleaned it.  It was emitting a positively horrid odor every time I used it, so the hubby tore it apart and I cleaned this substance off of all the internal parts that can only be described as a slurry.  It reminded me of the episode of "How It's Made" (or maybe it was "Dirty Jobs (with Mike Rowe)" where they showed how bologna was made, and there was just this pink slurry of who-knows-what that the machines were churning out.  That is what the stuff that was stuck to the internal parts of the dishwasher was like, only worse because it wasn't pink, it was brown and grey and smelled horrid.  So hey, kids! Clean all the food off your dishes before you put them in the dishwasher, because those bits and pieces go somewhere! 

So, yeah, that was gross.  I have a pretty solid stomach for gross things (after all, I am a nurse and was a CNA before that!) so I was happy to clean it up, but I really wished I would've had gloves.  *cough* *gag*

Also in the "things you don't think about until you have to" department, we now have dining room furniture, too!  It really helps make the place look more like home.  And also, we're not hitting our heads on the chandelier above the table anymore, since there's a table under it. That's a nice bonus.  

We have living room furniture picked out, and most of it is supposed to be delivered later this week.  With all the horror stories about furniture orders being delayed until May or June, I was totally not enthused about furniture shopping.  One thing that turns me off about furniture shopping is the lack of immediate gratification; we spent hours and hours looking for just the right furniture (not even exaggerating, but that includes the time spent looking at stuff online to get an idea of what style we might like) and then we finally found it, but still have to wait for it to be delivered.  I don't do "waiting" very well, which I've read more than once is a sign of immaturity.  So be it, because that's how I am.

Anyway, as luck would have it, the living room set we both liked was mostly in stock.  The couch was the only thing delayed until March.  The loveseat, chair, and ottoman will be here in a few days, and I cannot WAIT!  It will be nice to actually use the living room as a living room!  And to have a soft, comfortable surface to chill on that's not the bed.  Don't get me wrong, our bed is super comfortable, too, but for sleeping and not for sitting on to watch TV.  

Speaking of TV, we have one of those in the living room now, too.  We were supposed to go pick up a thing to put it on...not an entertainment center, but more like a short credenza? IDK, I'm not good at proper furniture terminology.  But we found one we like about an hour away (thanks to FB Marketplace, which is also how we found our dining room set) and we were supposed to pick it up yesterday, but as you may already know, there was a big snowstorm here on Friday and we had to spend Saturday digging out instead.  Thankfully the seller is understanding and we rescheduled; but the hubby broke down today and set the TV up on a folding table.  

No, honestly! We only look like we're living in our first place.  We have nice furniture coming, it's just not here yet! 😁  In a week from now, this place will look completely different.  In a very good way!!

One thing I can't get enough of here yet is the view of the sunset.  I think I've posted half a dozen sunset pics on FB so far, but I can't help it! I'm a sucker for sunsets anyway, but this one is just amazing, the way the colors emerge from behind the trees when the sun sets down into the marsh.  It's breathtaking. It makes me feel like we're on vacation or something.  I can't believe it's in our own backyard.  See?

I know I'm biased, but I think it's gorgeous.  Especially now with the contrast of the white snow and the dark trees. 

On that note, I leave you.  Supper's ready!  And I want to make some banana bread after supper.  Having everything all nice and clean and organized makes me want to bake.  'Tis the season!

Later, gators.

Welcome to my world!

 
 

I know y'all've just been dying to see pics of our new place.  Well, here you go! (Gosh, I love the internet, specifically Google Maps with Lot Lines, sometimes.) 

Here is our new (to us) home sweet home, all 7.87 acres of it. I generally just round that number up to 8, if anyone asks.  Ain't she a beaut?!  Trust me...we looked at a LOT of places this summer, and yes, she is a beaut.  😂 

So, do you see the tree line that runs approximately down the center of our land?  Where it's brown on one side (left/west) and green on the other (right/east)?  Yeah, I haven't even stepped foot on the westernmost part, anything past that tree line, yet.  I lovingly refer to everything beyond the trees as "The Back 4".  👍  That, my friends, is marshland.  Did you know that the basic difference between marshland and swamp is that swamps are predominantly forested?  So sayeth National Geographic.  Looking at the above pic, I definitely wouldn't call that "predominantly" forested.  Also, the area on the far left of the pic is the DNR*-owned Cylon Marshland Wildlife Area (CMWA).  I think the brownish areas on the northwestern and southwestern blocks of this Tetris map are also DNR land, but I'd have to go look at some other maps to be sure, and I don't feel like doing that right now.  

*That's "Department of Natural Resources", yo, not to be confused with "do not resuscitate".

My point is that the land behind our Back 4, and much of the land surrounding us, is public land.  At first, I was like...ewwww, "the public"!  I don't want them traipsing around behind my backyard, especially with guns!  But that was followed shortly by -- Cool!  We have access to hundreds of acres beyond our backyard!  According to the DNR website, the CMWA is 507 acres in all.  And we can use it all we want!  And we only have to maintain our little drop in the bucket!! 

I love living in the country.  I really do.  I always knew in my heart that I wouldn't live in the city all my life.  Weird, eh?  I was born and raised in the city, and by "in the city" I don't mean one of the neat outer suburbs with strategically-placed man-made green spaces, I mean The Inner City.  We had exactly one tree in our yard (and it's still there) and I used to pretend it was part of a forest.  Long before I realized I'm an introvert, I dreamed of living in a magical land where our neighbor's house wasn't two feet away and I could step outside and not feel like I had an audience, where we'd be surrounded by trees and have actual natural green space that wasn't planned out by the Parks Department, and trees that were free to grow as much as they wanted and not have to worry about being cut down when they got too big because their roots were disrupting the sidewalks.  17 years ago we made that dream come true when we moved to the little farm, and you know what?  You couldn't pay me to move back to the city.  I'd go nuts.  It's the place I was born, but it is NOT my home.  

And yes...one of my favorite stories when I was little was "Country Mouse, City Mouse".  LMAO

Anyway, there's your first glance at Chez Nous.  Unless you're friends with me on FB and have already seen some of the pics I've posted there, anyway.  Mostly those are pics from the online listing before we closed, with some random sunset pics thrown in for good measure. I've taken some "before" and "during" pics of some of the rooms that we're fixing up, but haven't posted them yet.  

Ooooh, that reminds me!  We're finally getting furniture!  I know nine days without furniture doesn't seem like a long time, but when you come home from a long day at work, or have spent the day moving and you're tired and just want to settle down onto a comfortable couch or cushy chair and chill in your living room for a while, nine days without a couch seems like forever.  (And the reason we don't have furniture yet is because we left most of it at the old house, because we're nice parents like that, and also because we wanted to get new furniture anyway.)  We picked out a couch, loveseat, chair, and ottoman this weekend and they will be delivered next week.  And, we also finally found a dining room set (table, chairs, hutch and buffet) that we agreed on; the hubby and the son are supposed to go pick those up tonight after work.  But, as too many well-laid plans made anytime between October and March are wont to do, those plans may be postponed tonight due to the weather.  It's cold here right now (I almost wrote "really freaking cold" but nah, it's still above zero so it hasn't reached "really freaking cold" stage yet) and ever-so-lightly snowing, and it may or may not get worse in the short-term, so...we shall see.  

Any and all plans made in the Midwest between October and March are subject to change due to weather, no questions asked.  We invented "always have a back-up plan". 

March might even be cutting it too soon. 

Alright.  Well, thanks again for reading my blog, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it, but I kinda doubt that's possible.  Adios, amigos!  

If you're looking for a sign...it's gone!

 

Our new place is feeling more like home every day.  Yesterday, the "for sale" sign at the end of the driveway disappeared!  They never did add the "SOLD" sign to it, so it didn't make any sense to me to take a picture.  Now, the real test is to come: will I be able to find my own driveway without the big blue and white sign pointing the way? Stay tuned...

In other news, my hubby finished painting the office, and got part of the desk assembled last night.  It's nice to have a real desk to work from again, instead of the bay window or the kitchen island.  I don't have my computer over here yet, just my laptop, but I can deal with one monitor for now.  It feels cozy already (and I mean that in a good way!).  I got the spy speaker, I mean Alexa, hooked up yesterday so now I have music in the house, too.  Everything's coming together, slowly but surely!

Max really wants us to get some living room furniture soon, though.  He thinks this 'laying on the floor like a dog' stuff is for the birds.  😆

(Also, don't feel bad for him. He gets to lay on our bed whenever he wants. Most of the house is carpeted, and the parts that aren't do have a couple of his favorite laying rugs strategically placed for his comfort, and honestly the disgruntled look in this pic is probably more from the fact that we were eating and not sharing as much as he thought we should.  He's very spoiled that way.)

Alright, I'm the one who wants us to get some living room furniture soon, and I'm just projecting onto the dog.  It's time to take ownership of my own feelings and shout from the roof tops, I AM WHO I AM AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, TOO BAD!  Oh, and we also haven't had time to go furniture shopping lately between moving and working, and that also doesn't include the fact that I hate furniture shopping.  Well, I'm not a fan of shopping in general, but if I had to rank my least favorite types of shopping in order, "furniture" would be right up at the top of that list.  Maybe the very top. I don't feel like finessing that list right now.  So, my point being, the fact that I want to go furniture shopping is quite meaningful.  Even though we've found plenty of things to keep us busy around the house after supper, or during times when we would otherwise be settling our tired, old butts on the couch or chair and zoning out in front of the TV, it would be nice to have the option to settle our tired, old butts on a couch or chair and zone out in front of the TV for a while again.  

Plus, Max needs a place to nap.

And, our living room is just a big open area right now.  Well, we have an open-concept floorplan, so the kitchen/living room/dining room are all in one big area, and since we don't have dining room furniture yet either, the open-concept feels REALLY open.  The acoustics are awesome, though!  I'm not going to pretend that I don't sing my heart out in there when no one else is home. Or even when someone else is home. I am who I am and if you don't like it, too bad! XD

Alright. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining.  I'm really not complaining.  Just exaggerating my thoughts for entertainment's sake (that's what blogging is, right?!)  God has blessed us in so very many ways, and for that I am grateful beyond words.  Besides...not having a place to park my lazy butt after supper has helped me set a better habit of cleaning up the house every day instead of saving it all up for the weekends.  ;)

And on that note, I have to get back to work.  From my beautiful little home office in the middle of the woods and marsh, with my ever-faithful pupper wrapped up in his favorite blanket and snoring away in the corner behind me.  Not even kidding.  See for yourself: (sorry you have to click the link. I don't have time to figure out how to embed the video into this post.) CLICK HERE!

Toodles!

Day 3 and I still can't find my pants...

(BTW, it's called "poetic license". I know where my pants are now. 😌)

Don't take flat surfaces for granted.  Without the luxury of furniture in our new home, useful flat surfaces can be hard to come by.  This became especially apparent this morning, my first day working from home in the new digs.

I feel I should preface this by pointing out that I/we will have a dedicated home office space.  Someday.  Actually, the hubby is painting said space right now, and there's a stack of IKEA boxes in the middle of the room, and my intended new desk is hopefully on the shelf at the store waiting to be purchased and brought home.  

Which is good, because the only sufficient flat surface I could find this morning was the bay window in the living room.  The window where most of my plants are housed right now, because the plant stand is still at the old house, and other than than, I haven't figured out where to put any of them yet.  Thankfully, yesterday the hubby brought some chairs (including my office chair) over from the old house, otherwise I'd probably be working from bed or the floor today.  So yes, I pulled my office chair up to the bay window, and here I am.  

I really cannot complain, though.  It's a lovely view.  Beside the fact that I'm surrounded by plants (which is a good thing), the view from my "desk" today is the woods in front of our house.  Even though the trees are bare (except, of course, the six little pine trees on the other side of the driveway) it's still calming and peaceful.  This morning I got to watch three blue jays flitting about in the leaves and in the trees, and the occasional squirrel or two gathering acorns.  It's official -- I'm a freaking Disney princess.  Bippity boppity boo!

Nah, but things are going as well as can be so far.  We're figuring out where things should go, and trying to remember where they went after we put them away, and rebuilding our supply of food and dishes and towels.  We left a lot of stuff behind for the boy in the old house, so win-win-win because it meant we had less to move, the boy has a nice "starter" base, and we get to buy NEW STUFF!!  I'm not usually a "new stuff" kind of person, but setting up a new house with new stuff can be fun!

Oh yeah, and that's the reason we don't have living room or dining room furniture yet.  We left that at the old house, because it fit the old house, and we didn't have to move it, and the boy needed that stuff anyway.  We haven't figured out what "look" we want for the living room yet, exactly, so haven't begun furniture shopping in earnest yet.  Thankfully, the internet is good for window shopping, and figuring out what you DON'T want is just as important as knowing what you do want. 

Alright, I gotta let the pupper outside and then get back to work. Toodles!

 

I like to move it, move it.

 New places always make us look at life differently.

Ain't that the truth?! Actually, the above quote -- which I found by Googling "quotes about moving to a new place" -- sounds to me like it's meant to be more about travelling than moving to a new home.  But I don't feel like writing about travelling right now, and it fits both scenarios, so roll with me here.

The closing went off without a hitch!  That was on Wednesday afternoon.  We went to the closing with the truck loaded up with totes, so after the papers were signed we went to the new place and I worked on unpacking totes and cleaning the fridge while the hubby changed all the locks.  Then we went around and tried to figure out all the light switches.  ;)  Seriously!  This place has more damn light switches than anywhere I've ever lived.  I almost feel like labelling all of them until I get it figured out.  Almost.

I'm going out of order already. Wednesday morning, we got up early and went out to breakfast together, then went and bought painting supplies and picked out new colors for a few of the rooms, and picked up some more cleaning supplies and other stuff.  

Thursday morning we got up early again and brought more stuff over and unpacked.  Instead of putting everything in cardboard boxes, we're using heavy-duty totes, and then unpacking them right away so we can fill them up again.  It's actually working out better than I thought it would, because the totes fit together well and we don't have to collect cardboard boxes (or dispose of them afterward) and it also forces us to unpack right away. Mostly.  We only took one load over on Thursday, because we then took Thanksgiving Dinner (lasagna, salad, and breadsticks. And of course pies!) over to my parents' house.  My Dad went home from the TCU on Tuesday and things seem to be going very well so far!  

I'm going out of order again. It's been a busy week!  I took Tuesday as a PTO day so I could bring my Dad home and help him get settled back in.  That was an emotional day!  My Dad cried when we got there to pick him up.  He was in a wheelchair, not because he necessarily needed it but because it was easier to move him that way.  Honestly, the VAMC is a huge place and going anywhere involves a lot of walking.  So actually, I had both of my parents in wheelchairs, because my Mom (still being just three weeks status post hip replacement surgery) didn't feel up to doing all that walking, either.  It made me wish there was such a thing as double wheelchairs.  My Dad, who went to the VAMC wearing just a t-shirt, socks, and underwear, came home with three bags and two boxes of stuff.  I brought less than that home after birthing a baby...but I digress.  He looked great, and is moving around so much better than he did before. I just hope he keeps up with the in-home PT and moving around more at home so he doesn't get deconditioned again.

ANYWAY...today's Friday, right?  I'm so lost.  This morning we got up early again, and the hubby loaded up the tractor on the car trailer, and put some full totes in the truck, and headed over to unload the tractor and start painting while the boy and I worked on packing the totes, loading up the truck, driving to the new place, unpacking the totes, and then doing it all over again.  I'm feeling pretty accomplished, we got four loads taken over (one in the Equinox and three in the truck) today.  Got the stuff in the totes unpacked, too.  Not put away yet, because most of what we brought over today is stuff from my craft room, and I don't have any idea how I'm going to organize that area yet, but right now in my basement it looks like I'm having a poorly-organized rummage sale.  In my mind, I was going to have time to sort through all that before moving it to a new house, but oh well.  

The new place is starting to look and feel more like home, with a couple of glaring exceptions...we don't have any furniture over there yet!  We're moving the bedroom furniture over tomorrow, and haven't decided what we want for living room and dining room furniture yet.  We also need some bar stools for the breakfast bar/island.  And a couple of desks for the office, which we don't have but we know what we're getting -- just have to go to IKEA and buy them.  

So! That's what I've been up to lately.  Slowly emptying the place we called "home" for just over 17 years of most of our belongings, and hauling them all to a new place that feels like someone else's house right now.  Although that feeling fades by the hour when I'm actually there, as expected.  Tomorrow we'll start the first phase of actually living there, which will be a lot easier with the bedroom furniture moved over and the fridge full of real food (and not just Diet Dew and Arizona Green Tea).  

My main Deep Thought about the last few days' activities is that moving is a young person's game.  I am so sore! The kind of sore where if you stop moving for a few minutes, your muscles start to stiffen.  For the first time, moving things over a little at a time feels like it's just going to prolong the agony.  Alright, I'm exaggerating slightly; it's not agonizing.  It's not even pain as much as it is fatigue. Especially after today.  Which is also to be expected, I mean I have been pretty sedentary lately, so I really shouldn't complain.  I'm also highly motivated to get everything over there so I can start settling in, so it's really not a big deal.  

Except that it's also cold and I have my Winter Chill on already.  And yes, that deserves capitalization because it's a seasonal thing here in the upper Midwest, a sign that fall has fallen and winter is taking over.  It's that permanently cold feeling that gets in the core of your bones, when you realize that you're cold all the time but most of the time you don't even notice anymore, and no amount of layering seems to help.  In fact, the only temporary relief is taking a hot shower, as hot as you can tolerate.  This would happen whether we were moving or not, but it's been exacerbated this year by being outside so much already.  Oh, well.  Life goes on.

Speaking of which, I should go fill up some more totes.  A few days/weeks ago, I was feeling bad because I wasn't around here much to help with the packing and cleaning and such.  That feeling is gone now -- I feel like I'm caught up, ha ha ha.

Alright!  Thanks for reading.  I'm signing off now, because the cord for my laptop was moved to the new place already, and also because I really should go help pack more totes.  The sooner we get packed, the sooner it will be our new home and not just "the new place"!!  Toodles.

The countdown begins!

Ladies and gentlemen, we might actually get to close on the new place, after all. The scheduled closing time is about 50 hours away, so that could still change (😫) but I'm hopeful that we're on the real final stretch and that the end is in sight. 

Or should that be, the beginning is in sight?!  Trick question! Both are correct.

I laugh at myself when I look back at previous posts here (which is another great reason to start a blog, if you haven't already), specifically the one from 10/29/21 where I was going on and on and on about the "new normal" of life after COVID.  It's so cute, in hindsight, to read about what was on my mind at that moment.  Don't get me wrong, my COVID experience was horrible, but I haven't had much time to think about it since writing that entry.  

I realized the other day that things taste somewhat normal (or what I remember they should taste like) again. I don't know when that happened.  My sense of smell is pretty much back, too, although occasionally muted by nasal congestion and post-nasal drip.  I had a random coughing attack the other night, which was probably acid reflux and not a respiratory concern.  I think I have more headaches now than I did pre-COVID, but that could be for so many other reasons, too.  Most notable is that I can have random symptoms like that and my first thought isn't, "I hope this isn't COVID!"  😷

My Dad will be discharged from the TCU tomorrow and coming home.  Tomorrow will be 3.5 weeks since he was last home, and since the last time he saw my Mom.  That's a long time -- nearly the entire month of November.  It seems like the whole world has changed since then, but has it, really?  The biggest change is that my Mom went through hip replacement surgery, but that's not really anything you'd pick up on if you didn't know.  Other than there being a walker in the living room, and a random cane here and there, there aren't any outward signs in the house that she went through any of that.  I did take some pictures to show my Dad when he gets back to try to make it more "real" for him (nothing graphic, just pics of my Mom's x-rays and pics of the incision when we first took the bandage off).  I know if I was away from my spouse for almost a month, and he'd gone through something traumatic like that in our absence, I would want to see pics or something to get a better feel for what he had been through.  

The biggest change will be that my Dad isn't supposed to drive anymore, but that's not even the end of the world.  He hasn't been driving much, anyway, and my parents already have resources that they've been using for transportation to various places.  It does make me sad, even though I've known for a while that this was coming.  And while it makes me sad for my Dad (because I can't imagine a Car Guy's feelings when being told not to drive anymore...) it also brings me a huge wave of relief.  

The other "change" is more of a formal acknowledgement, in that it's now been officially recognized that my Dad has dementia.  But this isn't really a change that's going to drastically throw "normal" life out the window, either, because it's been "there" for so long that it's not news to me, or my Mom, or anyone who is close to my Dad.  It hasn't suddenly worsened or anything, it's just finally been clinically evaluated.  Which also brings me more relief, to have it acknowledged as a fact, and out in the open.  I struggled with this muchly when my Dad was first hospitalized, about the guilt of knowing it was there but not actually doing anything about it, but I had a long talk one day with one of his doctors who tried to assure me that I shouldn't feel like I did anything wrong.  That things like this happen so gradually, families adjust to the changes gradually as well.  I wanted to yell -- that's all fine and good, but I work in freaking healthcare and should have known better.  And she pointed out that there's nothing I could have done or can do now to change anything, anyway.  She said I shouldn't feel bad that I "missed" anything, because I didn't.  I don't know; it's still an emotionally sensitive topic for me, but I know she's right.  I'm a daughter first and a nurse after that.  It's not my job to diagnose everyone in my family (lol).  I'll resolve this internal struggle, eventually, probably.

In the meantime, I have a few hours left of work and then I'm off for six whole days!!  Crazy, I know.  Tomorrow I'm picking up my Dad in the late morning and bringing him back home, and helping him get settled back in, and then tomorrow evening we have the final walk-through at the new place.  Oh my gosh, you guys, tomorrow night I get to sleep in my own bed again!  I can't wait!  Then Wednesday afternoon is our closing, and after that we'll go to the new place to do some measuring etc. and start moving some things in.  Thursday, Turkey Day, we'll move some stuff over in the morning, and then in the afternoon bring food in and have Turkey Day dinner at my parents' house.  Friday, Saturday, and Sunday -- and probably most of the otherwise-unaccounted-for moments for the foreseeable future -- will be cleaning, painting, and moving, organizing, unpacking, lather, rinse, repeat.  

Alright, I have to get back to work now.  TTFN and thanks for reading!

Where do I belong?

I'm so confused. 

I don't know where I belong.  I've been staying at my parents' house for over a week now.  I lived in this house for almost 20 years, it's not a strange place to me.  The décor has changed, but it's the same structure.  It's a comfortable place, it's a familiar place, but it's not my place.  

45 miles to the east is my current residence.  It's also a comfortable and familiar place, but it feels less and less like "home" every time I'm there.  Our décor is being packed up, and for the last few months I've been mentally preparing myself to leave.  My time there is limited, and has been cut even shorter now that I've spent the last almost 2 weeks at my parents'.  And like my parents' home, it will always feel familiar but soon, it won't be my place anymore.

20 miles to the north of that is another place, a place that I've only seen once in my life, but will soon be the stage for the next chapter in our lives, the first place we will live without our son.  Not counting the place we lived when we first got married, but that doesn't really count because we did end up living there with him, after he was born, ha, ha, ha.  In my mind, I've been trying to prepare myself for this move as well: to have a new home base, a new town to claim as "home". I've looked at the pictures of the house (from the online real estate ad) countless times, trying to recall my fading memories of what it was like in person, mentally unpacking our belongings and organizing things and decorating and making it our home.  But it's not my place yet, either.  Right now it's still someone else's home.  The only thing tying me there right now is a bunch of paperwork.  

Don't mind me. I've had a lot of time to think about a lot of things lately.

=============================================================

I started writing this a few days ago. When I first started writing it, I was having a bit of a pity party, which I don't even want to admit right now.  Changes can be challenging, even if they're only temporary, but especially if they're open-ended.  And it's not like things are going to go back to exactly the way they were before, because that's not how life works.  But when I started writing this, and was thinking about how my home base has changed recently and will change again soon, I was at that tiresome point where I was sleep-deprived and stressed out and a little down and not knowing when things were going to progress.  I don't want to whine (well, not much, anyway...) because other people are feeling worse than I am right now, and this I know for a fact because I'm temporarily living with one of them, and talking on the phone a couple times a day with another.  I really am honored that I am in the position to be able to help out in this situation.  It brings me so much peace to not have to worry about how my parents are doing right now.  As much as I miss being with my hubby every day, and sleeping in my own bed, it makes my heart happy to be able to be here right now.  

While all of this existential pondering is going on, the saga of settling on a closing date for the new place continues as well.  I can't even tell you off the top of my head anymore how many amendments we've signed for this deal.  I hate to complain because we did say we'd be flexible with the closing date so the sellers could find a new place, but we presumed that the sellers at least had a game plan and that they wouldn't wait until the last minute to decide to ask about changing the date!  Our original closing date has now come and gone.  The amended closing date, the ones the sellers finally proposed in writing, was declined by the title company.  I wanted to cry.  There have been a lot of times in the last 2 weeks that I've wanted to cry, but I haven't.  Not because I've been telling myself not to cry, but I just don't really feel like crying.  I either haven't reached that point yet, or I'm handling everything better than I thought I was. ;)

Closing Date #3 has been set.  Today we received the confirmation email from the title company.  If the sellers proposed another change right now...too bad, so sad.  No more amendments.  That's the closing date and we're sticking to it.  We've been flexible and more than generous, and our realtor has also been working his ass off to get this settled for us.  I bet he wishes we were paying him by the hour ;).  Last weekend, we started buying new furniture for the new place. But it still seems surreal to me, and because of the person I am, I can't get my hopes up yet.  

Meanwhile, in St. Paul, my Mom is making most excellent progress since her hip replacement surgery two weeks ago today!  I'm impressed!  Her mobility is pretty much back to her baseline, and I'm helping her get through all of her follow-up appointments and such.  And over in Minneapolis, my Dad is making progress as well in the TCU.  Or so I hear, based on telephone conversations with his nurses, doctor, and social worker.  Not being able to see my Dad or his current situation has been very difficult and challenging.  And knowing that he's in a strange place and confused about what's going on has made it even more difficult.  But we've worked through some issues and apparently he is working hard on his physical therapy as well, because today his expected discharge date was moved from December 3rd to November 23rd.  Insert happy dancing here!

So, that's where we're at now.  There is light at the end of the tunnel and it's not the headlight of the oncoming train.  :)

One day at a time, sweet Jesus

That's all I'm asking of You

Just give me the strength to do everyday
What I have to do...

It's amazing what six solid hours of sleep can do for a person.  ("A person" meaning me.) Even if that sleep is obtained while in a recliner in a different house in a noisy neighborhood while a person is also half-listening for another person's activity.  

Long story short: my Mom broke her hip last weekend. She had  total hip replacement on Tuesday and was discharged home on Thursday.  The last time my Mom was a patient in the hospital was just over 47 years ago, when she gave birth to a legend.  (Yes, that would be me!)

On the same day that my Mom broke her hip, my Dad was taken to the ER for what ended up being a COPD exacerbation and generalized weakness.  I mean, the ambulance taking him to the ER had literally just pulled away, and my Mom had gone back into the house to turn off the TV and call for a ride and lock up the house, and she was walking back outside to wait for her ride when BAM, femoral head fracture.

So, not to make this all about me because it certainly is NOT (oh, who am I kidding?! It's my blog, of course it's about me.) but that's how I started the Craziest Week of 2021 (So Far): trying to get a hold of my Dad in the ER at one hospital in one of the Twin Cities (which was a task in and of itself because this particular facility apparently has a rule against transferring calls to ER patients...) to let him know that the reason my Mom wasn't at the hospital with him yet was because she was in the ER at a different hospital in the other of the Twin Cities, while also trying to keep in touch with my Mom to find out the extent of her injuries and her treatment plan.  And as much as I wanted to drop everything and run to the cities so I could see what was going on myself, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be allowed into any ER with the current COVID visitor restrictions.  Not only that, but I myself was only one day out of my COVID isolation period, and I was living with someone who was only halfway through their COVID isolation period as well.  So I stayed home and made phone calls and freaked the hell out.  I can handle one parent being hospitalized -- my Dad has been hospitalized a few times over the past few years, so this wouldn't have been the first time I stepped up to help out, and I'm glad to do so. But the added stress of my Mom being hospitalized (when she hadn't been hospitalized for, like I said, 47 years. And the last time was my fault, ha ha ha.) and trying to be there for both of them...well, I mean I guess now I know I can handle that as well, but for a while, it was iffy.

For me.  Not for them.  

Because I don't feel like reliving all of the details of the last week right now, I'll conclude with a Current Update.  My Mom is doing very well; today is post-op day 4, and her 2nd full day home, and she's doing great! She's very motivated to get back to baseline.  I'm staying with her for the time being until she gets back on her feet and regains the confidence and comfortability to be home alone.  I don't think it will take long.  Although, I will also have to reach an acceptable level of confidence and comfortability of her being home alone at night before that happens, too.  Heh.  My Dad spent, let's see, 6 days as an inpatient while his COPD was treated and the exacerbation resolved, and then was on a waiting list for short-term rehab to rebuild his strength.  He got into the short-term rehab (for lack of another term that I hate to use...) yesterday and as far as we can tell, is doing well.  He can't have visitors in the short-term rehab center, which sucks big fat donkey balls.  I'm a visual person. I don't like just getting info over the phone, I'd rather do it in person. I want to see for myself what this facility is like, what the people are like, etc.  

So my first few days back to work in the office after COVID went something like: try to get as much work done as possible while also keeping an eye on my cell phone to make sure I don't miss any important calls, then as soon as I could possibly manage to get out of the office (meaning when we were done seeing in-person patients) I would go to one hospital (usually the VA) and visit with one parent for a while, then go to the other hospital (Regions) and visit the other parent.  Then drive home, try to catch up with the hubby, debrief with him for a bit, then try to fall asleep so I can get up at o-early-hundred and do it all again.  It was utterly exhausting.   Then on Thursday morning, my Mom called before I even left for work and said she was being discharged that day, and could I pick her up and spend the night at the house (which we had already discussed)?  

SUNDAY 11/07/2021

Another two-day blog post. Yay! 

Anyway. I've been staying at my parents' house since last Thursday night, staying with my Mom while she recovers from emergency hip replacement surgery.  Which, at this point (POD #5!) is mostly emotional support.  She's doing awesome physically. Much better than she thought she would. She thought she would basically be an invalid for a few weeks. Good thing I'm a nurse and knew that wouldn't be the case.

The closing on our new place has been postponed a few weeks.  Not related to any of the above.  I'm bummed but not completely heartbroken, because of the above.  Hopefully in a few more weeks, I'll have more time to help.  I'm a pretty useless wife lately.  

It's been weird staying here again. Well, it was at first.  It's not as if my parents left my room the same when I moved out, or anything like that.  They don't have a spare bed or even a sleeper sofa anymore.  They do have two recliners and a loveseat.  I've been sleeping in my Dad's recliner. It's not horrible. I've slept in a lot more uncomfortable and inconvenient places (like the old "couch" in the OB waiting room at the old hospital where I used to work...lol).  

But I'm not used to how fricking loud the city is! Holy crap! There are cars driving by, bass pumping, car doors slamming shut, people yelling, tires screeching, all hours of the night. OK, not like constantly, but enough to keep me on Alert.  For the last 17 years, I've lived in the nice, quiet country, where occasionally a car drives by or a train rolls by in the distance, and if I heard someone yelling outside my window I'd be flipping the fuck out.  

However, the 20 minute drive to work is nice...heh.  Not nice enough that I want to move closer to work, or find a job closer to home, but it is nice to have a temporarily shorter drive.  

Alright, I'm gonna sign off for now.  Most of what is on my mind isn't fit to share in here, out of respect for my parents' privacy and my sanity.  But if you're the praying kind, could you please keep us in your prayers? God will know why.

Thanks. 

I can't think of a witty Title.

I'd like to see where in the Bible it says that God will never give you more than you can handle, please.  And if it's there, I'd like to file an official complaint.

Don't go Googling scripture now, just because I'm being sarcastic.  Truth be told, that saying amuses me muchly.  God knows that we can't handle much on our own, so He doesn't give us more than HE can handle. And He can handle anything.  

Tonight's ramblings are brought to you by lack of sleep and increase of stress secondary to sudden onset of parental caretaker responsibilities.  As evidenced by (funny, I don't think I've used the term "as evidenced by" since nursing school, and now I'm having flashbacks to writing care plans) I don't even know what I was going to write next, I just wanted to use "as evidenced by" in a sentence. Next!

If you ever get COVID and want to find a way to snap yourself out of a post-COVID funk really quickly afterward, I'll tell you what works: having both of your parents come down with major medical issues. At the same time.  It helps if you're basically the only child, too, and as an added bonus to keep you on your toes, make sure each parent is hospitalized at a different hospital, preferably in two different cities (neither of which should be the city of your residence).  That is a completely effective way to forget your own problems for a while.  Oh, eventually (and actually, it won't even take that long...) your body will remind you that you're not as young as you think you are anymore, and that you are still recovering from COVID and should be taking it easy yourself.  However, as the #1 daughter, you will push that aside and do what needs to be done to take care of your parents.  Because, dammit, the people gave you life.  They raised you. They made you the awesome person you are today.  It doesn't matter that you didn't always get along when you were growing up, and even sometimes still don't see eye to eye, because you just step up and do what needs to be done.  It can't rain all the time, right? You can sleep later.  Perspectives change suddenly.  Welcome to adulthood.  And if you are fortunate enough to also be a nurse or other caregiver, who does this kind of thing for a living as they say, it will be both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing, because you'll know how the "system" works and what to expect, and also because you'll already be professionally trained in the best and safest ways to literally just take care of people.  A curse, because everyone needs to just turn their professional mind off for a while. But, that's what comes with working in health care.  You can't get away from it, even when you're not on the clock.  It's everywhere.  

ANYWAY...I just needed to write a bit to organize some thoughts and vent a bit.  I'm mentally exhausted, but physically not too bad right now.  I don't even feel like explaining everything that has happened since my last post right now, that's how tired I am.  I should sign off and get some sleep until midnight when I have to wake up and be a nurse again.  But I don't mind -- I've spent years and years and thousands of hours doing this kind of thing for people I'd never met before and may likely never see again; it's really quite an honor to be able to care for people who mean the absolute world to me.

I just hope my car doesn't get broken into, stolen, or operated on (i.e. catalytic converterectomy) overnight.  That would suck.  

Good night!

 

This is It. Now what?

I've been holding off on this one particular internet search for a few weeks now.  It feels like it's been a lot longer than a few weeks, but no, it's really only been about two weeks since COVID hit our house. 

But as a public service to you today, I'd like to strongly recommend that you do NOT Google-search for anything along the lines of, "What are the long-term effects of COVID?"

I'm taking a little poetic license in today's title, but only a tiny bit. I'm hoping the worst is over for our household.  I think it's safe to say the boy has recovered unscathed, and I'm pretty sure I've reached the "recovered" point as well.  I haven't even had any medication today, because I wanted to see how I'd do without it.  I feel like the meds are what messed my head up so much yesterday. I hate taking meds, even when I need them.  But today, I feel like I don't need them.  And the solid clunk of mucus that was the inside of my head is slowly starting to melt away now, but that's alright; I don't have a fever, I'm only coughing once in a great while (and it's a "normal person" cough!) and I barely have a headache anymore.  I don't feel completely back to pre-COVID normal, but I feel like this is as good as I'm going to get for now.

But I do have to admit that the whole COVID virus thing itself is fascinating.  What is it doing, exactly? Why did I lose my taste and smell?  Why did we all three catch this even though we've all been vaccinated, and why is it affecting us all differently?  Why did I have a fever but didn't feel like I had a fever?  What about the insomnia?  I have so many questions.  I want explanations.  I want to know more about this mysterious, crazy virus.  Mostly I want to know when I will feel completely like a normal person again, but I don't think anyone has that answer...

:)

In other news, we're one day closer to our closing date!  It will be weird to switch my brain to thinking of this place as the boy's place, and our new place as our place.  I feel like I should just still be able to show up here whenever I want, ha ha ha, like I still own the place or something.  I mean, we've lived here longer than we've lived anywhere else together, so that only makes sense.  But the idea that this won't be where we live anymore in a few weeks...weird. Hasn't really hit me yet.  I've been distracted by a few other things recently.  Ha. Ha. Ha.

Alright. I guess I'll sign off for now and see what the weekend brings!  Hopefully this brain fog goes away soon.  It's frustrating.  I feel like I've forgotten how to think.  That's not going to work for me.  You can keep my sense of taste and smell, but I really would like my sense of being able to think returned intact, tout suite, s'il vois plait.

 

COVID, day number whatever we're on now.

My advice to you about the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) is don't get it.  Get the vaccine, get the boosters, wear a mask in public, do everything within your power to avoid catching this virus (or any variants thereof) and to avoid spreading it to others, because it really does suck.

And I'm not just saying that as the self-proclaimed Queen of the Man Cold, either.  I'm saying it as an otherwise-healthy adult woman with no underlying co-morbid conditions that should have made this any worse for me.

I actually did think I was doing better the last time I wrote about this.  Then that night, I don't know what happened, but my fever jumped up to 101.2 and stayed there all night, and I felt like I was going through Day One again -- all-over body aching, incredibly tired and just run down, and so much headache and coughing.  I lost my appetite (and my sense of taste and smell are gone, it's very hard to eat when you can't taste or smell anything, oddly enough...)

Oh my gosh, you guys, the coughing attacks were horrible.  Every day, at least once a day but often twice or three times per day, depending on what I was trying to do, I would go into these coughing fits that felt like they were honestly going to kill me.  I wasn't coughing anything up at all but it was like my body wasn't getting that message and was just going to keep coughing harder and harder regardless.  Then I wouldn't be able to catch my breath and that would make cough even more, and all I could do was just try to gasp for breath and pray for it to be over soon. The coughing episode, the painful bronchospasms, or life, whichever ending would bring the fastest relief.  

The fevers were bad, too.  You know, in the past when I'd have a fever, I'd know it because I would be super cold.  Like, even a fever of 100 would make me feel so cold that all I'd want to do was curl up under 3 or 4 winter blankets, fully-dressed with at least a t-shirt and a sweatshirt and leggings and socks (and I never wear socks to bed unless I'm sick!) and stay cocooned there until I stopped shivering.  With this stupid virus, it's like my body wasn't even trying to fight the fever.  I wouldn't feel cold like I did in the past, I would just feel "normal" or whatever, and then I'd check my temp and it would be 101, 102, 103... and it would keep going up throughout the day no matter what I did.  

I couldn't sleep because I was afraid of doing anything to bring on another coughing fit.  I've spent most of the last week or so literally just lying there not doing anything but praying.  If I did fall asleep, I'd forget that I wasn't supposed to move so I'd go to turn or something and start another coughing fit, and/or wake up in a pool of my own sweat, dizzy and lightheaded.  I'm not trying to make this sound over-dramatic, this is literally what my last week has been like. This was WITH the vaccination.  I hate to think what it would have been like without it.

I started this entry yesterday. Yesterday I worked from home for the first time in about a week.  I think I made it about 5 hours.  Today I'm working from home as well, and it's going a little better, but my head is so full of cotton today that I can barely think straight.  I know it's not really cotton, but it sure feels like it.  I feel like I'm moving in slow motion (sorry, co-workers!).  

In other news, there's still drama going on with our scheduled closing in a few weeks, but I won't share all of that here.  I'll just say that people don't surprise me anymore.  Which is really sad.  People and their craziness.  I'd love to lay the whole story out here but I'm not going to, because one thing I've learned from living in a small town for almost 20 years is that everybody knows somebody, and there's probably somebody on my FB friends list who somehow knows the people whose place we're buying, and at this point I just want this transaction to be completed and done with so we can all go about our merry little ways.  

Still looking forward to the move, though!  I was hoping to get some packing done while being on isolation, but that hasn't happened.  Hopefully this weekend I can pull myself together and get some things done around the house - some cleaning, some organizing, some packing... I'm so tired of having no energy to do anything.  At least I can move around without spurring on a coughing attack today!  

Alright, speaking of which, I need to get back to work.  Have a great day and stay away from COVID!!

COVID day 4.

Well, today so far my temperature has not been above 100ºF oral...so, one point for me!

I also slept pretty well last night, too, which is a new thing for me.  Other people I've talked to have said they didn't have trouble sleeping when they had the Rona, but I have. Not last night, though.  Last night I slept comfortably and was not awakened by either coughing or a full bladder. Another point for me!

Still had the piercing headache when I got up, though.  Boo.  I was also feeling like my lungs hurt when I took a deep breath, so I decided I'd better spend as much time upright as possible today.  One of the last things I need is pneumonia.  

Anyway, I also decided to take a shower this morning.  The last time I took a shower was the day before yesterday, and it was a struggle then.  It wasn't much better today.  It's so frustrating that a simple thing like taking a shower is so tiring.  What is this virus doing to my body???  

I've spent a lot of time the last few days losing what little patience I had left for all the excuses there are for not getting the vaccine, not wearing masks, not social distancing, etc.  My personal favorite today is "I don't know what's in the vaccine."  Because suddenly people need to know every single component of everything they put in their body?  People who never gave a rat's ass about the specific chemicals they are willing to eat, drink, smoke, or otherwise expose themselves to are now suddenly concerned about receiving a vaccine that could save their life or the lives of those around them?  Pfffffft. Whatever.  

I will admit, I was not the first person in line to get the COVID vaccine when it became available.  I'm a skeptic, like so many others.  I knew I would ultimately end up getting the vaccine, but I didn't want to be the first one to offer up my arm.  I definitely knew I wanted to continue suggesting that my patients get the vaccine when able, and I didn't want to be a hypocrite.  And, I wanted to do whatever I could to help protect my parents and my mother-in-law and all of my other loved ones and acquaintances with compromised immune systems or other risk factors (including my asthmatic son).

Anyway, as I sit here with aching joints, a piercing intermittent headache that won't quit, sinus pain that feels like my facial bones have cracked into a thousand tiny pieces like the shell of an egg run over by a monster truck, frustrated because I can't even take a shower that includes conditioning my damn hair without needing to sit down and rest for 10 minutes afterward, I'm just annoyed with people who have a blase attitude about doing what they can to prevent this from happening to them.  I wouldn't want this to happen to anyone else.  I have a shit ton of crap to get done in the next few weeks, I do NOT have time to be exhausted by doing literally nothing.

*deep, cleansing breaths*

Alright, then. Sitting upright makes me tired, though. I think I will sleep well again tonight.  I'm ready to go to bed right now, and it's only 6:40pm.  Watching TV has never been one of my favorite things.  The computer and the phone don't help my headache.  I am working on crocheting a leaf garland thingie for our new place, but I don't want to do too much crocheting because, hello, I'm breathing COVID breath all over everything.  So I'm definitely not going to work on any crochet projects for anyone else right now, either.  I look at the listing of our new place about once a day, but that's getting old now, too.   I've seen the pics.  I know what the pics look like.

It's funny, though, if you think about it.  Our new place, that is.  We looked at it once, and then made an offer. And it was one of the quickest showings I think we'd had this summer.  It honestly surprised me and, at the time, made me think that the hubby didn't like the place.  At other places, we would both look in all the closets and the cupboards, and make sure doors and drawers opened properly and such, and it felt like this one we just kinda zipped through.  (Which, I do want to add, had absolutely nothing to do with our realtor! He was always good about giving us as much time as we needed to look at whatever we wanted to see.  This time, as it turned out, the hubby knew what he was looking for and, having seen it, didn't feel the need to see more.)    My point being, it will be interesting when we get to see the place again, to see how well I remember it.  I was looking at it guardedly when we did look at it, because I didn't want to fall in love and get my heart broken again (figuratively of course), plus we still had another house to look at after that.  I don't know, it's hard to explain (especially with COVID cotton brain).  There's a hell of a lot of money and work and time involved in this transaction for a place we've only seen once and spent less than an hour looking at.  It better freaking work out.  :D

Alright, it's 7pm and my eyes are fuzzing over.  I'll catch y'all later.