One Would Think...

 One would think that when I sanded down the 80-year-old cardboard I would have gotten sick from the cancer-causing glue that was used all those years ago.  I did not. 

One would think that after delivering mail in a deluge of 40 degree rain, when even my rain coat soaked through, I'd have gotten the sniffles.  I did not.

When the pollen soared because we went from said 40 degree day to 72 and sunny, I'd get seasonal allergies from the pollen coated mold spores, but nope.

And when both the boys took off for the weekend and it was just the Hubs and I that I'd finally be able to relax and enjoy some sunny days getting things done.  Also nope.

Instead, I got COVID.

When a general sore throat, continued into a progressive congestion and tiredness, I took an at home test. Never did I think it would come out positive. Unlike the covid of 6 months ago, the kids who both tested negative, went about their business as usual.  Oldest went to work, and Youngest who had been in NY for four days, spent all of two night at home, and found elsewhere to stay for the rest of his birthday week. 

My sore throat went to congestion, then into an unimaginable tiredness. Tiredness comparable to that of early pregnancy, where you are literally growing a new human being. Then the cough came, shortness of breath, and lost my voice entirely.  Two days of food that tasted like cardboard, dizziness, and nausea, and just when I turned the corner, the symptoms all repeated themselves.  

Oldest was nice enough to pick up my new glasses for me while I was home, and now of course I could finally see how dirty the house was.  I don't sit still well, even sick, so I would pick away at small tasks as I could.  I'd clean out a shelf in the kitchen cabinet, then have to nap for an hour. I'd throw in a load of laundry, start sweating so badly I'd have to change, and then take another nap. Seriously.  It was ridiculous. 

All and all, it took 6 days for me to feel somewhat human. The Hubs had minor sniffles and congestion but for the most part was himself, so while he plugged away at the stone wall along the driveway, I sat wrapped in a blanket, semi lifeless, in the Adirondack chair in the sun. It was a beautiful week to be home.  I was even able to open the windows to let the covid cooties out.  

One would think that after two years of waiting, finally getting my covid quarantine, I would have gotten so much done. But nope.

One would think that I would have cleaned closets, binged TV shows, renewed my love for cooking.  Nope.

One would think I'd have caught up with all my much-loved blog-ie peeps, also, sadly no.

One would think, it would not have taken me until I went back to work to tell y'all where I've been.

But here we are, post covid. 

And the best thing I have to show for it, due to forced time off, is a healed sprained knee.

One would think that I wasted so much time, indulging in sleep, breathing, losing track of the days.

Nope.

It's A Pity Party Project Post...

The other day someone left a little green baggie with chocolate on my front door. It was from a friend from down the road. Funny, aside from having kids the same age we never really connected often, but for some reason she felt compelled to leave me a little pick me up on my doorstep.  And it was the good stuff let me tell you, oversized bars of specialty chocolate, to die for.

The thing about being the one that does for others is that it's rarely done for me. When I say that, it's not that I'm not appreciated, I am. I know that.  And the regular characters in my small circle make sure I get what I need. But outside of the circle, that's a different story. Outside of the circle it's rare that someone goes out of their way, much less drives to my house, to make me smile. And the truth is, it was just what I needed.

The results of my MRI came back for me knee.  I have RA in my knees now as well as my hands. I have a sprained MCL and one other tendon.  I have cartilage damage in various areas, as well as the cartilage that connects to my kneecap is torn free. I also have a cyst behind my knee from a buildup of fluid due to the other damage. I read this all on my online chart. Not a single doctor has gotten back to me in regard to the next steps. I can't take time off from work until I get a doctor's note and FMLA paperwork done.

The day after I had my MRI, I was out delivering a package and fell on ice. Six inches of hard packed, bumpy, no traction in sight, ice. It was my first step out of the truck, I hit my tailbone on the bottom step of the mail truck and then slid further catching my back rib cage on the bottom step as well. It's not broken, but it hurts to sit, stand, and bend down. And my ass crack has a nice purple hue. 

So, between the wonky knee, and the purple butt, getting through the day is exhausting. I can't walk the dog for the leisurely walk she deserves because I can't make it more than 1/2 mile after working all day. I have to pace myself with errands which means more often than not we are out of whatever I actually need. Work is difficult because every bump and curb the mail truck hits bounces me in the seat and the pain makes me nauseous. I can only half hobble downstairs for laundry duty and forget about cleaning.

In an effort to push off my feeling of uselessness, I am doing small crafting projects around the house.

I finally built a frame for the puzzle Hubs and I finished. 

It took very little time and WAY more epoxy than I expected. But it is definitely cool to have done.

And we just finished this one.  It's a photograph of our pond, at sunrise, last July. 

We use our fridge as a wipe board.  I was frustrated by the disorganization of it, so I cleaned it up with some vinyl decals...

We've joked that our "company" needed T-Shirts for years now.  So, I made us some...

And then there's this trunk, that the hubs picked up for me at a local charity shop for ten bucks...

The first thing I did was do a deep dive on the information we found inside of the chest.  It was issued to a soldier in 1942, when he was drafted for the war. I asked around on my buy nothing FB site and I was able to access his draft record, an old census, and his obituary.  I reached out to the son, who lives semi local, but have not heard back.  It had been converted to files in the 80's and clearly has been painted and modified.  I'm in the stripping process now.  It's basically a plywood box covered with cardboard.  One would think that would come off pretty easy. NOPE. Tomorrow it will be in the 50's so I'm taking it outside to sand.  I got some cool fabric that I will line the inside with, the tray has been brought back to it's original height, and I will be using the documents from the original owner to add character to each compartment. I plan to replace the handles back to leather, I added casters, as it's the perfect height for a coffee table, and I bought a canvas of a WWII Mustang 51 Bomber blueprint (since he was in the Air force) to adorn the top. I am super excited about this one, but it's going to take a while to come together. That other chest in the photo was another project I finished two months ago. It was a Lane blanket chest from 1950 that I got for free from Buy Nothing...

It was in terrible shape.  The legs were broken, it was moldy and warped, but the inside cedar was beautiful. I went to work conditioning the inside, replacing the legs, and stripping the moldy veneer...

Youngest wanted the chess board since it was supposed to be a coffee table. He thought it would be a nice touch...

It ended up being entirely too big for the living room, so I put it out in the sunroom.  It stores the snack overflow for the kitchen and houses the cases of water and other stuff that I hate having in plain sight.  Plus it's super sturdy now so it's perfect for an extra seat when needed. I didn't mean for this beauty to be the keeper of Cheetos, but here we are. And the old owner loves what I did with it and is thrilled it didn't end up in a burn pile somewhere.  So it's a win all around I guess. 

So that's what I've been up to over here, having my pity party for one, eating Cheetos from my 70-year-old cedar chest and chocolate along side a cardboard coated trunk that would survive a nuclear war whilst wearing my clueless construction T-Shirt, because well, I have no idea what I'm doing. 

Until next time, with more exciting stuff. Maybe.

Escape To The Garage...

 The Hubs and I have been slightly obsessed with the TV show Escape To The Chateau, which is a British show in which an English couple buys a French chateau and renovates it. There is also a complimentary show called DIY, where the cameras follow other couples that have done the same.  There are hours of shows to watch, and we find the narration and subject matter quite calming.  I suspect best part for Hubs is that unlike other home renovation shows, it's unlikely that I'll be asking for a walled garden this spring, and, despite my best efforts, it's unlikely I'll be successful at installing a moat, sans gators, around our tenth of an acre estate.

Lately there's been much discussion regarding the Husband's shed, as we've discovered it will cost less to build one than to buy pre-fab. Where will it go?  How big? Lean to? Free standing? The list has been endless.  As have the other things that cost money, so we've curtailed the actual build until Fall. The other day I while watching The Chateau I was sketching up ideas and told the Hubs "I think we could make a turret shed off the corner of the garage.  It won't go over our septic, and it would look great all landscaped in."

He rolled his eyes.

Youngest: Wait. We're installing a turret on the garage? Like a machine gun turret?

Me: No, like a castle tower turret.

Enter Oldest: Wait, we're getting a turret? *makes machine gun gestures*

Me: What is wrong with you people?  It's a tower, and it would look beautiful and not take up a ton of space.

Hubs: *continues to roll eyes*

Oldest: Here me out, you build the tower and then we put the machine gun on top.

Me, knowing the engineer won't let this go: Ok, you can install a super soaker on top.

Oldest: But wait! There's more! We can make it so it has a water supply, like the hose, so it will constantly fend off attackers.

Me: We have attackers?

Oldest: Wait.... ooooo... we could make it so it automatically fires water back and forth and waters the lawn!

Maybe I'll have him help me with that moat idea. 

And in case you're wondering, Hubs is still rolling his eyes.

The Washing Saga Continues...

 This is the third day I have taken off for the washing machine repair man to come out.  My co-workers are beginning to think I'm having an affair.  Hubs could care less, as long as the machine gets fixed.

If you missed it, my 11-month-old Maytag washer doesn't sense when a load is off balance and shut down like it should.  Instead, it keeps trying to get it done, causing it to get stuck in a cycle indefinitely.  We found this out when 15 minutes before it finished one night, it got stuck in the rinse and spin cycle for 9 hours. Nine hours folks.  The agitator melted and split in half.  Youngest's winter coat was covered in melted plastic, as was a full load of brand-new Christmas clothes that thankfully, he wasn't too broken up about. Had water not been running through it, while draining the tub, we could have had a fire or flood, or both.

The first guy came out and declared we needed a new agitator.  Um, yeah...

Two weeks later the next guy came out and installed the new agitator but never did a diagnostic check to ensure that it would not happen again.

Two weeks later here we are, with yet another tech and a new part, checked out some things, ordered another part, and informed me we'd be setting up another date in a few weeks for install. While discussing my tales of washing woes, I did learn some things.

Apparently having a large capacity washer (8cu feet) doesn't mean you can wash more things; it just means you have more room to wash it.

The new machines have a spin speed on them. While it will take a bit longer, spinning on low or medium (ours only has med/high) will ensure the drum doesn't get off balance.

You shouldn't wash more than 3 pairs of jeans in a load and no more than 3 large towels.

And no matter how much laundry you have, you should never fill it over the halfway point. 

So now, until eternity, or the next 5 years with the way these machines are made, I will be the only one doing laundry to ensure the house doesn't burn down. But on the off chance someone wants to give it a go, I used my new circut machine to spell out the rules.

I probably could have put them on a sticky note. 

I also learned I may have a circut problem...

Jackpot...

 If you've watched the weather here in the States, you may have noticed there was a big old storm barreling towards the Northeast.  It started around 8pm on Friday night, ramping up around 5am Saturday, until finally spinning off into the ocean around 10pm that night. There was 70+ wind gusts, and white out conditions.

We, of course, were in the jackpot area where fun bands of snow, falling 3-4 inches per hour just hovered over us.

It was the first time in nearly 20 years I called in because of weather. One of my coworkers snapped this picture Sunday morning.  We weren't allowed of course to go in and dig out our trucks, because that would make a ton of sense.  Instead, it was left for our ONE Maintenace person to dig out over 50 trucks, clear the parking lot (front and back) and the main PO a half mile down the road. *sigh* Many post offices in our area made the call to keep their employees safe and close down.  Ours did not.  Eleven employees showed up. One drive of 10 minutes on local roads took 40 minutes.  Another 20 minute ride took 2 hours. Not a single piece of mail went out. 

It simply wasn't worth the risk for me, and I'm tired of management who can't understand that NOTHING Amazon sells is more important than my safety. 

We ended up with about 22 inches of snow.  With our close proximity to the ocean, the bottom 4 inches was widow maker snow, the type heart attacks are made for. The next 14 were heavier and packable. Topping off the last 4 inches, was light and fluffy snow that blew right back to where you had just moved it from. We spent well over 4 hours shoveling and snow throwing ourselves out. A young person's game, this snow removal stuff. Thankfully we had Sunday to clean up as well, and due to a well-planned appointment from a month ago, the Hubs and I were both off today as well. We finished off the access to the basement and the area where the electrician will be putting the outlet for the generator plug next week. A long overdue task on the to-do list, I had called him a few weeks ago, and he's been waiting on parts. While we did not lose power this storm, to be able to run the furnace with the generator will be a huge relief for the next time. Getting the basement clear was important to me because I have a sneaky suspicion that Maytag will be replacing the entire washer soon, as there seems to be an issue with the computer system itself, not just the melted agitator. 

After our appointment and snow clearing, the Hubs and I went to lunch.  We were discussing the hockey raffle from the previous post, because we just can't let it go. Somewhere between the endless breadsticks and chocolate dinner mints he says, Let's bank $400 and take $100 and get tickets. Then, that will be it. Done.

Dude, you don't have to tell me twice.

Driving home I think he had forgotten when we pulled into the gas station, and I gave him cash to go in. I also gave him the ticket I previously purchased to buy another since it was a $10 winner.

We bought 7 tickets total. Five of them hit. We won $75 on 4.  The last one was one of the complicated crossword ones that take forever to see that you're a loser. Thirty minutes later, scratch residue everywhere, I hear, I think I won $625.  I verify and agree. Of course, you can't cash that at the local grocery, so we got on the lottery website and apparently there's a mobile app that allows you to claim it electronically.  You just scan the barcode, and it deposits into your account. So, we set it up. Scan. Deposit... one thousand dollars.

Apparently, we had missed a scratch bonus.

To recap...

We threw $25 we never expected to see again at my nephew's hockey team fundraiser.

We won $500.

We then used that money to win an additional $1075.

Did I also mention that earlier in the week I got a check from a class action lawsuit, from a mass mailing notification that I had forgotten all about, for $340? 

The Universe is preparing us for something friends, I just know it.

In the meantime, I'm spending $50 of the winnings on a Superbowl sqaure, proceeds past the $500 per quarter winnings will support a friend's charity run of the Boston Marathon. 

What's the worst that can happen?

Don't Tempt The Universe, Or Your Wife...

 Him: Your sister texted me.  She wants to see if I want to get a raffle ticket for your nephew's hockey team.

Me: Okay...

Him: It's $25.  The winner gets $500 worth of scratch tickets, or you can take the cash. I don't know if I could take the cash though, because wouldn't taht take away from the team?

Me: No.  But we won't win anyway so just donate the cash.

Him: Well, it has to be done with Venmo, so you'll have to do it, and I'll just pay you back.

*The following week*

Him: I got this text, I think it's a scam. I'm not going to do anything until I get home.

Me: *makes several phone calls* No.  Not a scam.  You won the raffle.

Him: Do I take the cash or the tickets?

Me: I don't care.  We were donating the cash anyway to the team, so I say roll the dice.

Him: That is not what I thought you'd say.

Me: We started in the hole $25. Do whatever you want.

*later after MUCH discussing back and forth, mostly me saying I don't care*

Me: Flip a coin.

Him: Okay.  Heads cash.  Tails tickets.

*flips coin*

Me: Tails, tickets.

Him: I think I'll take the cash.

Me: But the universe is telling you to take the tickets.

Him: Nope. Cash.

*sigh, and maybe an eye roll, just trying not to kill him*

Next day...

Him: They Venmo-ed the cash into your account.

Me: I saw.  I'm going to Vegas to blow it all.

Him: Vegas is too far away, let's just go to the casino and lose it all.

Jokes on him.

 I already bought some scratch tickets., since you know, he never did actually pay me back.

We Have No Idea What We're Doing, But I Have One Foot In The Grave Anyway...

 My Dad, after the better part of 50 years of being a contractor, finally retired on December 31st. I called my Mum the other day and she told me he was enjoying his retirement by putting in a window for a customer. I don't really think he understands what being retired is all about, but still, I suppose there's an enormous difference between having to go to work, and wanting to go to work.

I called him today to ask him some technical advice. Hubs has been asking for a shed for years and I was thinking about getting him one for his birthday/father's day this year.  I had some general questions about size, permitting, etc. I am thinking about a pre fab one, simply because while I think both of us here at Clueless Construction can create a level platform for a shed to sit on, I am not fully confident in our ability to build a watertight roof that will not crush under potentially 2 feet of ice and snow. After all, our moto is "We have no idea what we are doing."

Me: So Dad, I know you're retired, but ... blah blah, size, lot lines, plastic, prefab... blah, blah

Him: Well, why wouldn't you just add on an extra room to the garage?

Me: Like on the side? And tie it into the roof line?  You do realize we have no idea what we're doing right?

Him: Eh, it's fine, just keep it a low roof, and follow the pitch... blah, blah...

Me: Maybe if you came over and knocked it out with Hubs, but like you're retired...

Him: Yeah, well that could be fun.  You let me know.

I'm not sure how much fun that would be, but I hope he likes getting paid in steak and cheese hoagies.  Because after pricing everything out, we will need a small mortgage to get this done regardless of if we decide to do prefab or not.  The cost of building materials, and well, everything, is ridiculous. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I bought myself an everlywell food sensitivity test to see if there's an ingredient I have a sensitivity to that I'm missing. It was a relatively simple test, and the results came back in about a week. Turns out I'm highly reactive to eggs, and moderately reactive to milk (but not cheese which is weird), Brazil nuts (not even sure I've ever had one) and chicken. I'm already Celiac, so no wheat, oat, barely or rye for me since 2007.  

If you're wondering what I can eat based off these results, you are not alone.  I have no idea either. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My ADD is in high gear lately, not sure why.  My restlessness has spurred a flurry of projects, many of which have sat undone for weeks. Of course, it doesn't help that we've had to tag team laundry duty at the mat twice a week, and I'm still working 6 days a week due to covid shortages, but I still needed a plan of attack or we'd be in pretty bad shape soon. So, I've made a list, no matter how small or big, with the goal of checking a few off a week. 

This week, I plan to fix Oldest's laundry bag and the hole in my sweatshirt, frame and mount Hub's collectible Bordaro Pinheiro Portugues fish so they don't break (again), work on finishing a puzzle with Hubs that he got for Christmas (from me), put up shelves, clear the wall of stuff from the breaker so the electrician has access to it, and buy/change the filter for the furnace. While this week's list isn't huge, I assure you, it's a feat to get it all done. Especially since the puzzle, now complete, took us collectively about 40 hours to finish, it's a tough one.

I also have a "business meeting" scheduled with Youngest. He has big plans, but no real steps to get there, so I have a choice, stay quiet and watch him fail, or give him my best advice (not as a mom but as someone with a degree in what he wants to do, and nearly 20 years in that field) and let him do with it what he wants. It's also a "life meeting", as his plans include moving out and being self-sufficient, neither of which he will do in the short time frame he would like if he doesn't have some deadlines. He approached me for advice on credit cards, and he's secured a, albeit a part time, job.  I find comfort in his communication, but while he's up for the meeting, he has yet to actually sit down for it.  We shall see...

Hubs and I did find time last week to run over to the burial plot I bought so he'd know where it was. The ground was all squishy, semi frozen, and super sticky as the weather's been wonky here.  It was the kind of mud that envelops your feet and can suck your shoe in.   While walking back to the vacant section, my foot slipped a bit, got stuck in about 4 inches of mud, and took me more than a second to pull out. It also happened to slide me right into the edge of a tombstone.

"I literally had one foot in the grave!!!"

Hubs just laughed and laughed.  

Keep laughing buddy boy, with everything that needs doing this week, your foot might be right in there with mine. 

The Days Of Hoarding Tests & Melting Machines...

 Friend: So, I have 3 tests and I have 5 double packs coming.  Then my boyfriend has 7 double packs coming plus a few he got from work.

Me: Yes, I have 14 I think when everything ships, including the three I have on hand now.

Friend: It's ridiculous that we have to keep a small hoard covid tests on hand like this.

Me: Everyone thought I was ridiculous in January of 2020 when I grabbed an extra case or two of TP, paper towels, and Lysol wipes.  But come April no one was laughing.

So that's where we're at over here folks.  Dodging cooties and hoarding tests.  I tell you, there's only two other times I had so much anxiety over waiting on two lines in a control window.  At least I didn't have to pee on this test. When you're a family of 5 (essentially) you need at least ten for every exposure. Sad, but true. Oldest is on the mend, though still testing positive, he was able to start his internship.  So far, the rest of us are doing our best to avoid the spike ball cooties. 

My husband's cousin was not so lucky.  He past away due to COVID complications this week. In case you're wondering, it is still very real.

We currently have more people out with COVID now than all together in the last two years. I think we have 6-7 people out per day just in our craft alone.  The clearing nurse the PO is using is so backed up that people are having to stay out far longer than the 10-day maximum, which is killing us.  The unions are all stressing to file a workman's comp claim for two reasons, one it forces the Post Office to pay out time for our leave rather than use our sick time, and two, it covers us in case we have complications of covid years from now, it will be covered under workman's comp. It's a lot of paperwork, but worth it in the end game.

Youngest's car is fully up and running, having had to spend half of what he paid for to get it running right.  As to be expected the dealer we bought it from is not returning emails or texts.  I will be filing with the Attorney General's office this week.  Well see if they still stay silent.

The Hubs has an appointment with his doctor this week.  Since we have the same doctor, he's giving me the appointment and rescheduling his for later in the month.  I'm hoping to get a full work up for everything right down to the knee.  Fingers crossed I can get a cortisone shot, because once again it's become unbearable.

And so as not to leave you with the impression that we have settled into the mundane, The Hubs woke me up at 5 am this morning because he couldn't get washer lid open.  It seems the washer had run on the spin and rinse cycle for, oh, 7 hours. It ran so long that the agitator actually melted and snapped in half, spreading liquid plastic all over Youngest's clothes.  Did I mention they were all brand new from Christmas and also included his favorite jacket that he never lets me wash?  Yeah.  Good times.  Thankfully since everything was wet, nothing caught fire, since you know, we were all sleeping at the time. 

Turns out, we were within 19 days of the end of the warrantee, and someone is coming out to check it out shortly. Youngest handled his clothing loss way better than I had expected (Hubs keeps reminding me what a HUGE win this is) and is off searching for a new coat with the girlfriend as we speak.

Which is good, since tomorrow's wind chills are expected to be -14F. (Somewhere around -25 for you C folks)

Which should make delivering everyone's grocery flyer so, SO, much fun.

Staycation All I Ever Wanted...

 Staycation, no cash to get away.  

Sing it with me.

As I mentioned in my last post, I was counting the days towards my vacation after Christmas.  To be fair, I actually like working straight through to Christmas generally because I know all my customers are taken care of and I start the new year on the right foot.  Of course, when my real life complicates my work life, this becomes difficult.  This year, it became impossible.

The day before Christmas Eve I went to work feeling somewhat off.  I chalked it up to having gotten the booster the week before and carried on.  While out on the route, the pain got worse, and of course, the mail truck broke down.  When the supervisor came out to rescue me with a new truck, he could see I was struggling.  I managed to make it through the day and checked myself into the ER straight from work. Eight hours later, relieved it was not my appendix, I was sent home with a script for heavy duty antibiotics and a note for work through Sunday. 

The next two days, Thursday and Christmas Eve, were pretty much spent in the house.  On a liquid diet I get quite dizzy, so I did not leave the house at all.  I divided up my last bits of Christmas chores for the boys to handle, along with getting my antibiotics, fetching lunch, and walking the dog. They did well, and our Christmas Eve went as well as can be. 

Typically, we do all our opening on Christmas Eve, make a big breakfast, and chill in our jammies Christmas day. This year, since we didn't get to see my brother's kids, we went over to my sister's house for an impromptu Christmas day brunch. While we were there, a game was played that involved holding a candy cane in your mouth and scooping up as many candy canes as you could for your team in the matter of 2 minutes. Super fun but not COVID friendly, at all.

Sunday was pretty uneventful, as I planned out my stress-free week of long overdue tasks. My parents came over...

Me: So, I think I'm going to buy the burial plot this week, since I didn't get one for Christmas like I asked.

Hubs: No way I was getting you that for Christmas.  Someone will ask me what I got you and I CAN NOT say burial plots.  That's just not okay.

Mum: Next year you can get her poison mushrooms.

*sigh*  Comedians, all of them.  But by Tuesday I had in fact, secured one of only 30 plots left in the cemetery down the street, with graves that date back to the late 1700s, where Youngest had changed flags every Memorial Day for 7 years. It's a corner plot, quiet, and perfect for picnics. When I got home, I made the appointment to update the will.  Funny, you don't think about how important these things are until you are stuck with seeing someone go through it. And given how difficult the last two years have been... 

Thursday morning my sister called me to say my niece had tested positive for COVID.  Remember the candy game? Yeah, I wish I could forget.  Thankfully I did not play, but Oldest did, and after some frantic searching we found a pharmacy with tests in stock.  So, he headed out to get one and discovered his car dead in the driveway, behind mine. Forty years of driving could not have prepared me for the comedic events that followed while, aided by Oldest, I attempted an 80-point turn to get my car turned around so I could jump his battery. Once successful, he headed out to get coffee to charge it a bit, came home and tried to restart it.  Nothing. Thankfully, my friend had an extra test and ran it down to us.  Oldest tested positive.  This means his New Year's plans are off, and he can't start his internship for an extra week.  He made the contacts aware that were necessary, and I ran to the pharmacy to get additional tests. He's been holed up in his room, sans his hand-built gaming computer -did I forget to mention it completely died on Wednesday?-with a box of tissues and not much else. 

With the rest of us testing negative, Youngest has packed up to a friend's house for the next 4 or 5 days, since he FINALLY found a job, and the Hubs and I are masking up and only running necessary errands.  One of which, was getting a new car battery for Oldest, which he installed today, since it was 50 degrees outside, a rarity in December. Which brings us to New Year's Eve, the Chinese food is ordered for later, and I am turning my sights towards the last things I need to get done as the next year arrives.

I sure hope the passing of Betty White is not an indicator of what's to come.

Twenty Eight Days Later...

 I'm alive, I swear.

Barely.

I'm not even sure where to start really, just to say that this Thanksgiving I was more grateful than others.  While we were missing my niece and two nephews, the event was more of an adult affair, the youngest in attendance being nearly 16. Youngest was present, really present, and engaged in conversation.  Oldest was happy to be home for the week, and even happier to be back on our insurance policy ensuring he could see friends and run errands throughout the week. Even Bonus Son partook in our rousing annual game of Family Feud, complete with Steve Harvey mustache and horrendous answers. 

Logistically the past 7 weeks have been a mess.  With a lack of help at work, getting time off to do anything is difficult.  On the 8th of November we dropped off Youngest's car to have body work done from two accidents, one where he was backed into, and the other when he hit a deer. We were assured that the damaged could be fixed because they were two separate claims.  For three weeks the body shop and the insurance company went back and forth. Then, the Tuesday of Thanksgiving week the insurance decided they would total loss the car.  They did this after they cut the check to the body shop for the first claim, and now left us trying to find a used car in a market that doesn't exist right now, and with a settlement price that can't replace any of the safety features he once had. Hostile phone calls ensued, appraisals flew through emails, it was a mess.  

No worries though, because while his brother was still in school he could use his car, right?  Nope.  It needed brake pads, rotors, and calipers. And, while we scheduled that for the shop, one of the tires went flat. In trying to get it off, something else came loose, and it then needed to go in immediately.  So not only could we not have Youngest drive it to school, but Oldest couldn't take it back into the city to get himself home for Thanksgiving break. This meant rearranging the week so that Hubs could get him that Tuesday, an hour trip into the city that took nearly 3 hours. Good times.

In the meantime, Youngest decided to bail on all but one class for college, further convinced it is just not for him. He did manage to find a car, and after 10 days of waiting, finally got everything through the RMV. The body shop finally released the original claim money they were given a month ago, and now we are just finishing up with the final settlement of his old car, which was just picked up from the body shop yesterday, and remove it from his policy.  

Oldest's last final was yesterday, so on Sunday we brought his car up to him, moved almost everything out for him, and began the process of fitting his entire apartment back into our 900 square foot house. He nailed his final, worked half a day, and arrived home at 730 last night further testing the limits of our storage capabilities with what was left of everything in the apartment.  His co-op is 5 miles from the house, and while I hope it goes well, this moving him every 12 weeks is crazy. Regardless, he's here until May, with delusions prospects of going to Switzerland to hike 100 miles through the Alps in April. 

Today, because of a well-placed vacation day I requested in March, I was able to restock the food in the house which had been getting, well, questionable. Youngest's car was finally available for pick up, so he finally has wheels and has been home for 30 seconds.  His goal this week is to finish his one class for school and find a full-time job. Target has been dragging their feet, and his other prospects aren't looking too appealing.  Though a library job with the town has popped up and has piqued his interest, so we shall see. His legal issues, while he didn't want to bring them into the new year, have been pushed to January, which seems to be a small favor. While I won't get into it, being the victim in one case prevents him from testifying and allows him the 5th. As horrible as what he went through, it seems he may have finally seen the road he was heading down was very much a dead end.

With nine days left to go it seems I will survive another holiday season.  The gifts are all received, wrapped, and with only stockings left to go, we are in good shape. The days, I'm sure, will fly by. Which is good, because I also strategically took time off way back in March for the 25th through the 1st.

Maybe then I'll actually be able to get something done for me.

Go Easy On Me...

There ain't no gold in this river

That I've been washin' my hands in forever

I know there is hope in these waters,

But I can't bring myself to swim when I'm drowning in this silence. ~Adele

 

There comes the time of year here, when the leaves are more absent than rustling in the trees.  When the cold sets in, and the green retreats underground to hibernate for the winter.  While Fall is the favorite of all seasons for me, the dark sets in so early and the chill through the 75 year old house can't help but make the walls creak, as well as my old bones. 

There are many happy things in the Fall.  My birthday.  Oldest's birthday; he's 21 this year. Thanksgiving.  The Holidays. The smell of cinnamon, pine, and spice throughout the stores and shops. Gratitude. Togetherness. Yet, every year it comes.

The weight that falls upon my chest, stifling the breath I desperately need to rejuvenate myself, anxiety that falls heavy in my soul.  I am no stranger to depression, having battled through severe postpartum with both boys, barely emerging on the other side. But the Seasonal depression, is something different.  Not crippling, but just enough to impact my everyday.  Not enough to require medication, but enough to take notice.

I take solace in the fact that Oldest will be returning home after Christmas for a semester.  His internship is downtown, with little travel outside of our town. It will be nice to have him home again, an unexpected upside to his new school schedule. He's dependable, even keeled, and the dog really misses him.  

Youngest has made some clear decisions about his path going forward, he's actively taking his medications, and becoming more of himself.  Despite his old life is trying to pull him back, he is determined to move forward.  He's finishing his 3 weeks of school and for now, has decided to not reenroll.  It's just not for him. He's looking for a full time job, and is making more of a point to be involved with the family. As Hubs and I watched the Adele interview the other night, she was asked what she wanted for her son as he grew older.  Her reply was for him to just be a good person, that she had no expectations for him, just to be happy and good. It resonated with me because since Youngest was born I believed that he would do great things, but perhaps I need to accept that he could do great things, and for now just be okay now with him just being a good person, a happy person. We can see small glimpses of that now, and that in itself is no small feat. 

Work has been not as bad as it could be.  We have had more sunny days than rainy, and the chill thus far has been manageable. In years past I have, with some help, organized and spearheaded the shopping and wrapping of gifts for several kids in the foster care system. It became such a burden and headache that last year I stopped it completely. While I did my own thing, gave when I could, where I could, it just wasn't the same. This year I decided to take only 2 kids, and myself and 3 coworkers are splitting the list and making sure they get a good haul from Santa. A small thing, but manageable, to bring joy to our day and theirs. 

I am finding joy in the small things.  Going to lunch with a friend. Napping. Breathing when I can. Really tending to my plants, growing life inside while I can. Saying no. Stepping back. Counting the thirty five days to the darkest point, until we regain 2 minutes of sunshine daily, 15 minutes a week. But still, the anxiety, the depression is there. While Youngest and I are familiar, Hubs just doesn't get it. It's hard to explain that I just can't snap out of it, that even through the smiles and casual conversation, the weight and sense of impending doom is still there, lurking. 

Thirty five days.

Until then, go easy on me.