Behind The Eight Ball

I probably shouldn’t be surprised that a week that began with my first-ever earthquake just ran away with me, but that’s what happened. (I do realize that those of you who live in California and such-like parts are yawning at me, but around here, noticeable shudderings of the very soil on which you stand are rare.) It was an odd, unsettling experience that segued right into a string of other odd, unsettling experiences.

My brand-spanky-new water pump decided to celebrate it’s one-week anniversary by dying - which it did overnight so as to really catch me by off-guard. (Because 5:00 a.m. isn’t hard enough to deal with without crises…)

Then I got a phone call from the contact-tracer at work: “X didn’t think her time with you had amounted to 15 minutes but I want to be sure that you agree with that…” Fortunately, I did. We’d been in the same room for longer, but had performed the close-contact dance, so all was well. I won’t try to kid you that my heart didn’t spend some time in my throat, however…

Happily, all this stress coincided with my annual deep-cleaning frenzy, so I’ve vented my frustrations by manhandling much within my home. I’ve scrubbed walls, floors, and ceilings, ripped up ancient carpets and padding, set fire to my credit card with a flurry of replacement purchases, shifted heavy furniture hither and yon, vacuumed heating ducts, - and in my spare time, braided a throw rug, because I couldn’t find what I wanted for one room. (Braiding done, still sewing…)

I’m not quite done with the cleaning yet, nor is the water situation completely resolved, but things are starting to settle down… and look up. I had a lovely Face Time movie viewing with a favorite niece, I found a chicken pot pie recipe to die for (well, actually, I hacked two together but boy howdy, was it good!), I now have sensible-but-festive Thanksgiving plans, my new dragon is on its way, and Best of All, I got to talk to SP last night! As he and I are rarely on the same continent anymore, that was a lovely and unexpected treat, so I happily braved sleep deprivation All For Him. He may not be the one I call my beau any longer, but he is still dearer to me than ‘most anyone else on the planet and I always feel much better after time spent in contact with him. Beautifully timed, my love - thank you.

So in celebration of the turning tide (AND the close contact dance!), let’s see in the weekend on a celebratory note. (Of a better sort than the one my pump chose.)

Let’s get out there and have just as much fun as these two are!