Syrup

Because of my last post, and your comments, I have developed an uncontrollable urge to eat pancakes. Therefore I am going to make some. As soon as I finish writing this.

Last week is now that: last week. Yesterday was busy at work, so it went fast--I sort of like my Saturdays at work (not in that I am missing SATURDAY, of course) because when it's busy, the time goes fast. When it's not busy, it is very very quiet, and it is possible to get a lot done in a very quiet and non-interrupted environment.

When I got home from work, I started painting a bedroom wall bright blue. Then we went to the store where my husband bought beer and I bought stuff to make pigs in blankets (nothing says Sunday like, um, little smokies). I felt disgustingly gross and nauseous and dizzy on the way home from the store. I put on pajamas, laid down on the couch under a) a quilt and b) a cat; I rested for a while. I took a long shower, then my uterus started being an idiot again (hence the dizziness and bleeeh feeling).

I had all these plans to do! A lot! A lot of things! Like put on a second coat of paint! And clean the filthy, filthy house! And brush the dogs! And put away laundry! Rearrange the furniture in the bedroom! Try once again to work on the evil, evil tub faucet! Paint my toenails! Catch up on blog reading! Catch up on emails! Sand the bathroom vanity! Fix the spot on my dresser that has varnish rubbed off! Cut the dogs' toenails!

Fortunately, I remembered that when I am exhausted and stressed, I tend to make matters worse by being so c-r-a-z-y. I told myself that it was okay to just not do anything else. Therefore, my husband and I ate a frozen pizza, played with the pets, and drank beer. I read a magazine, which always feels like a luxury. We listened to music, and I shopped online for some layering tanks and unsuccessfully for bras (I have one bra that fits now, and I can't find it). We watched Beerfest, and I talked to a friend online. My mom called and we talked about how it would be if on Wednesday the tests reveal that it is cancer again, which is a strong possibility. We talked about her surgery, and her anxiety, and the dogs, and attitudes. It was a good talk. My husband and I laughed a lot, and we sang, and then we talked to a friend who is far away, for a long time. At 2:30 a.m. we pushed the bed back up against the wall, moved the painting stuff out of the way, and crawled in.

It was a much better night than the night I had planned.

I don't know why I have to make things worse for myself--I suppose when I am feeling anxious and stressed and depressed, I feel guilty about things. And that makes me push myself, to ease the guilt. It's pretty pointless, and pretty exhausting. Who picks a) a very busy work week and b) a week full of worrying about loved ones, to re-do a bathroom floor? Who? How is that reasonable?

Perhaps it is more frustrating because I know, on some level, that it IS unreasonable. And yet it is hard to stop. I feel very very lucky that last night I did stop (even if it was partly the pain/cramps/exhaustion brought on by the uterus that did it). I feel sort of proud, that I was able to step back and have a fun evening with my husband. I feel that it is good I did not dig out my sandpaper. I feel it is good that I was able to ignore the to-do list, and just focus on relaxing.

That is how I feel.

Now it is a new week, and I am going to do some cleaning.

But first, I am going to make banana pancakes, and smother them in strawberry syrup.

Love,
black sheeped