I got to work this morning late. An hour later I was trying to find a way to keep from putting my head on the desk. Either that, or find a way to take a surreptitious nap in my car or an empty office without anyone noticing my absence.
I laid down at lunch, a daily ritual so far this week. It wasn't enough. I literally dragged myself back to work. Late again.
I came home early from work to sleep. I started getting stuffy, headachey, and just plain down over the continued spotting. So, I just woke up from a nap. I missed my 6:00 meeting.
I noticed a new package of toilet paper outside the bedroom door. I yelled "hello?" to an empty house and searched to find my husband planting in his garden. "Did you go to the store?" "Yes!" "I had a list" (pouting). ("thank you" probably would have been a nicer response, I know.)
But the list had things on it like ginger ale, ginger snaps, saltines. . . Things I've finally relented and admitted in writing that I need.
Oh well. I'm in no mood to go to the grocery store tonight - unless I could convince him to go again, this time with me.
In short, this baby is kicking my trash! (see previous post.) But the truth is that while it's totally taken me by surprise, I'm glad to feel my way through this crappy existence. M keeps saying "are you sure you want to do this more than once?" Today I answered him, "It's only 6 weeks - what's 6 weeks in the grand scheme?" And surprisingly, I meant it.
~Nichole
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