Not with my hip, that's just fine, thank you for asking.
Not with the anniversary of my perforation, although that certainly looms large.
No, I am assessing my adherence to the resolutions I made last week.
Since I said them out loud here in The Burrow, I'm beholden to you..... or so I seem to feel. Standing at the meat counter, watching the obviously-new-to-the-front-of-the-store butcher and the obviously-new-to-the-concept-of-food-shopping well-dressed gentleman of a certain age negotiate the collection and wrapping and pricing of crab legs and 10 or 15 of something in a shell, I thought of you.
You, watching me watching them. If I shuffled my feet or sighed or rolled my eyes or danced my newly painted nails across the handle of the cart, you, my external super ego, would notice. I didn't want to disappoint you, although, for my part, storming off in a huff would have felt just fine. But, I didn't. I stood there as they took their own sweet time, finding themselves hilariously unable to find the price of the things in the shells, talking about the season and the foodstuffs, as I stood there.
I tried not to generalize to an entire gender. I tried to appreciate their ease, their banter, their camaraderie. I tried. I'm not saying that I succeeded, but I tried. And that is progress.
On the declutter front, I took my time with the holiday decorations this year. They are packed efficiently. They are clearly labeled. None are too heavy to lift. They contain only items I cherish, those which bring me joy. I may not have adopted her entire program, but Marie Kondo's suggestion clearly worked in this small area of my life.
So, I'm two for two.
As far as guns are concerned, I'm putting off thoughts of action until after the Stroll and Roll this Saturday. I'm reveling in our President's actions, leaving Congress in its own, NRA-fueled dust. For this week, at least, that has to be enough.
Not bad after 4 days. Not bad at all.