Two days of funeral, followed by six days with two of my grandchildren, punctuated by three days of driving – 1500 miles later I’m finally home!
I know when I leave my husband Home Alone, strange things will happen. And most of the time he’ll handle them. This time was no different. The power went out – he knew who to call – and at the same time something happened to the heat pump. When the electricity came back on, the heat wouldn’t, so he spent yesterday with He Who Knows About Heat Pumps. All I have to do is wash the dirty jeans he wore crawling around under the house.
Believe me, had I been home, I would have been the one crawling around under the house.
He is, however, a bit domestically challenged, a licensed physician who got shortchanged in the common-sense department. (Job security for me. Heh.)
For instance, I pulled a paper towel off the holder this morning and gasped in disbelief when nearly the entire roll came off with my selection. My husband, in changing the roll, dismantled the holder – the coolest object in my entire kitchen – and threw away the part vital to its smooth operation.
I had to dig through three trash bags to find it. All together now: Ewwwwwwww!
I have eaten poorly and exercised not at all since January 1, except for some crunches and a one-mile walk with my daughter’s dogs. I’m feelin’ it, and not in a good way. January’s nearly half over and I’m making backward progress.
With all the wondrous medical advances we’ve made since I was born, you’d think they could come up with a non-fatal wasting disease. I’m discouraged and lethargic – six extra pounds will do that to you – and while I know what I need to do, I just don’t feel like doing it. I hope I’m just tired from the trip and my energy and enthusiasm will return in a day or two. I can’t keep going like I have the past month.