Routine

It was just another Sunday morning.  I straightened up the kitchen, picked up a few things at the grocery store, made brownies for TBG and Big Cuter and Amster's kids, read a novel and watched some sports on tv.  I checked my email in the late afternoon, e-chatted a bit, and came to tell you all about it before I dice up the chicken for dinner.  I'm at ease in my heart and soul.

Today is the 13th Sunday since January 8th. I just counted them out to be sure.  Running my finger down the Saturdays, zipping through January and then a little slower through February and even slower through March, stopping here in the 2nd week of April.  All those weeks, all those Sundays, all that time.  It wasn't wasted or unproductive time, especially if you bought into the notion that my only job was to heal.

It was, however, a long time.

I came back to the house after the store, stuck things on the shelves I can reach, wobbled about the kitchen melting butter and chocolate squares, listening to the radio and smiling.

I managed to get the pan into the oven and the dishes into the dishwasher.  By the time TBG came home from the gym, I was grinning from ear to ear.

It was just another Sunday morning.  Nothing special about it at all.  We have foodstuffs for a simple dinner and a new six-pack of Sam Adams Noble Pils, one bottle of which will fuel the dinner preparations.  My dinner preparations.  I'll need some help, but this meal always requires 4 hands at the final stages.  Like I said, it's just another Sunday.

Except that this is the first Sunday in 13 weeks which held all these possibilities.  I can balance, I can stand for extended periods of time. I have enough stamina to create the mess that I can now nearly almost not quite but soon bend over and clean up. 

I'm slower than I will be, but that's okay, too.  It gave me time to laugh as I thought of Little Cuter's Cartman* imitation while whipping up a low-fat lemon chiffon piiiiiiiiiiie.

And then I collapsed on the couch.  My aches were the tired kind, not the I've-been-stapled-together-and-I-hurt kind.  I had been productive and independent. 

I love how the simple things make me happy these days.


*I tried to embed a South Park video that wouldn't offend women, children, feminists or the elderly and that still showed Cartman saying "piiiiiiiiiiie". I failed to find such an item. If you're interested, find a 20-something and ask for a demonstration.