I am sitting here bursting with things to write about. Ana (12) and I spent a day in New York City shopping with some favorite people yesterday. My book is coming along. There are signs of spring everywhere. My husband bought a towel --yes, singular. I have things to tell you!
Unfortunately, I won't be writing to you about them today because while walking all around shops in NYC yesterday and shopping for clothes and trying on silly hats, I overdid it in a big way on my poor foot. Today I am on the couch, taking painkillers and waiting for this soul-crushing, creativity-zapping HUMORLESS pain to subside.
You know, pain is a funny animal. Or, really, I guess humans are funny animals with regard to pain. Because despite having spent the better part of a year living with this chronic, excruciating pain, I just kind of forgot how bad it is. I've been beating myself up lately for not having accomplished more during my enforced couch arrest -- why DIDN'T I knit an afghan or write three novels or develop an entirely new way of exercising without actually having to GET UP?
Now I remember why I didn't get anything done.
Because right now? I can't even knit. I tried to get up and fold a load of laundry and, y'all, I just could not do it. The pain is so loud and of such suckitudinal* hugeness that all I can do is sit here and wish it would go away. Just try to endure it; try to outlast it. Such a freaking waste of time and energy.
I guess a big difference between the Lost Year and today is that I have faith that if I stay off of my foot today, it will be better tomorrow. I didn't have that faith back then because we didn't have an answer as to why I was in so much pain to begin with.
So, here, look at the pretty kitties, all snuggled up together.
* Why, yes, I made up a word. YOU WANNA MAKE SOMETHING OF THAT??