random ramblings of Yours Truly.
My husband took our cat to the vet last week, for only the second time in 14 years.
Seems he’d found her meowing loudly on the floor of the family room, weak and not fully in control of her limbs. He carried her out to the living room and set her on the couch, and watched her as she returned to normal.
The next day, we arranged for a vet visit.
I’ve had worse days by far.
Still, after staying up until 11:30pm last night restoring my new phone (hooray for mobile insurance when your battery starts swelling up like Violet Beauregard), then getting the 2:30am “my foot hurts” wake-up call from my six-year-old, I was mighty lethargic today. Add to that the fact that I had intentionally NOT upgraded my phone to iOS 11 because I knew it would break some apps I loved… well, guess what OS my replacement came loaded with?
Yeah. Plus, my phone appears to no longer sync with the Kia UVO system. I’m still holding out hope that a reboot of my phone might actually correct the issue like the UVO system seems to think it will. If not, I guess I’ll either use Bluetooth or drive the other car. Or, you know, just listen to a CD, but that’s so 2002.
Anyway, I decided I deserved a little time for myself this evening. I sat quietly in the sunroom for 15 minutes before making dinner (because I had the time), then spent a half hour out in the garden after my son was (theoretically) asleep. I had meant to just read magazines in the sunroom and soak my feet, but dirt therapy worked just as well, and I got stuff accomplished to boot.
That fresh air does wonders.
I got a call from my husband Aaron yesterday on my work phone. Calling on my work phone is generally reserved for things that would take too long to text, or things that are urgent, surprisingly time-sensitive, or otherwise important. I’m instantly in a tense, reactive mode.
“Do you know if Mei has a new hiding spot?” he asks, after we exchange the usual telephone pleasantries.
It was just as well that the fireworks roused me at the stroke of midnight last night, as I had fallen asleep on my stomach, with my arms folded beneath me, and my hands were numb and tingly.
This year makes two — or maybe three? — years in a row when I haven’t even attempted to make it until midnight on New Year’s. I pretty much turn into a pumpkin by 10:30 or 11pm, and I know my son is going to rouse me at 8am on New Years Day, anyway. (I long for the day when he decides that really sleeping in is a thing.)
Memaw used to say that whatever you do on New Year’s Day is what you’ll be doing all year, so the half-joke was that we wouldn’t do any laundry or house-cleaning on New Year’s, but Memaw would cook, of course. That superstition never made any sense to me, though, since New Year’s was a holiday. Of course you’re going to be off-schedule and not doing the things you’d normally be doing all year, like going to school (or work).
Even though New Year’s Day is honestly a pretty arbitrary date, I still like to take this opportunity to reflect on my habits and goals. What do I want to accomplish this year? Did I accomplish what I set out to do last year? Continue reading