I am still waiting somewhat less patiently now for you to correct my email link. It's very annoying.
That's what Dr. Sanity and I explored this week. After cancer, perforated bowel, Larry's gator trick and Mason's death I feel that I'm finally getting myself back, you know, nearly normal. Whatever that means.
Dr. Sanity suggested that normal is an ever changing thing. I decided that normal means whatever you decide it means and can only belong to you. No one else can decide what your normal is, they just need to worry about getting their own normal.
Me – teeny, tiny tube in my ear. You know the kind they put in toddler's ears so they don't keep getting infected. Yes the ear drum that has ruptured twice since January still has fluid behind it, fluid with air bubbles no less. This is even after a cycle of Prednisone to try and quell the inflammation. So today I opted to have a tube put in to help. My other option was wait, as in it might clear up on it's own. I'm tired of waiting for it to clear up on it's own. I decided it needed a bit of aid and assistance. Hopefully this will restore my already imperfect hearing to it's former less imperfect level.
While reading my facebook page this morning I came across this article . Very sound advice but number 7 did make me pause. Oh well too late to accomplish number 7.
Thank you Julie
But what the hey? I just discovered this. Very witty.
Yesteray I achieved zen while painting. It was a beautiful sunny day and I knew that we were going to friends for a wonderful dinner – lobster pizza in fact. OMG YUM.
Painting was actually, read almost, fun. I was by myself enjoying the birds singing and the bees buzzing while a delight breeze played upon my face. Like I said almost fun. Today was a close second.
I didn't get there.
We're working on one of our rentals. The previous tenant just trashed it. We're trying to untrash it. To that end I painted the floor of the small bedroom. Not bad, satisfaction of a job well done, etc.
Then I moved on to one of the outside walls. I tried to go all zen with the painting really find some space where I was not cursing said tenant the entire time I was painting, not so much. Next I tackled another outside wall which needed patches primed before it can be painted, again no zen.
I've come to the conclusion that painting in this particular place is always going to suck no matter what. Too bad I still have the kitchen to paint – curses.