The pain is officially gone, so that’s something. Still some very light bleeding, but no more cramps. So I’m calling it a win.
Unfortunately, my own mushy feelings aren’t keeping pace with my body’s healing. They never do, but you just keep hoping…
This means I’ve abandoned just about any pretense at household chores for the moment. A relative is offering to buy us a Groupon for maid service.
I should probably take her up on it, but I’m not sure if we even have enough to do for a full 2 hours of 2 people cleaning. We do have bigger stuff, like the we-really-need-a-fan grime on the bathroom walls. Do maid services scrub walls?
So there’s a sink full of dirty dishes, a dwindling number of clean plates, and a lot of laundry. And only one of the two of us who’s putting in any effort in that regard. And it ain’t me.
It all still feels too… daunting, I guess.
I’m in major hermit mode, not wanting to go anywhere or do anything, besides read and watch TV/Netflix. (We discovered/went through Once Upon a Time Season 1 this weekend.)
Actually I’ve accomplished two things. I got my quarterly taxes (all three sets: FICA, personal and state) out a full day early. (I was not, however, the one who took them to the post office. Small steps.)
Also, I did the cat boxes, which is something. It’s lucky I got to them when I did. Marc had been great about scooping for me during the pregnancy. Problem is, it appears that he never actually added litter, just subtracted clumps.
I feel bad complaining about a favor someone was doing for us. But Patches is a prolific pee-er. She seems to have the bladder of approximately two champion racehorses. Why champion, you ask? I dunno, it just sounded better. Though it seems like they ought to have bigger bladders.
And if your cat pees much at all without sufficient litter — and if, like Patches, she inexplicably favors the sides of the box — it kind of clump/cakes on the sides.
When you attempt to remove it, part remains, while the rest disintegrates into tiny, uncatchable-with-a-scoop bits.Those tiny bits still manage to have huge odor that will pollute the entire box until you give up and dump the whole box. Huge waste and a pain in the ass.
Anyway, it’s all fixed and there’s a rich amount of litter in the boxes again. It’s not much but… well it’s not much.
But I just remind myself that I’m grieving and, even without cramps, still healing. In short, to be easy on myself and not dwell on what I can’t do. Like, most of the time, find any desire to leave the house.
I hermit. It’s what I do. I’ll be over that phase soon enough. And in a week or so, cooking probably won’t seem so ridiculously abstract and onerous either. I’m trying to just focus on the small things I can do. Just as soon as I find some.
And now I’m off to work. Which, come to think of it, is another (somewhat impressive) thing I’ve been able to do. So there’s that.