It may be rainy, lush, and green outside but in my little world it's...it's...well, it's just plain yucky. I've been 'under the weather 'for a few weeks now due to recent surgery and it's been no fun. I just don't bounce back like I used to. What used to take days now takes weeks. Okay, months. I'm old, I know it.
We've had some of the grandsons over spending several nights and we've enjoyed them immensely, but I just haven't been able to play with them like I normally do. Bless their hearts, it helps a lot that they're old enough to entertain themselves.
Anyway, it seems my brain hasn't gotten the message that my body is not a willing participant in any ideas it may come up with. Why, oh why is three a.m. the witching hour for me? That's when I lie in bed making all these big plans my mind thinks are really good ideas, but I know my body will shout "Oh, No you aren't!" For example, just this morning while I was snuggled under the covers, snug as a bug in a rug, I was keeping a running list in my head of all the things I wanted to get done. Topping my list was cleaning out the refrigerator, restoring the guest bathroom and bedroom the grandsons used (think F1 tornado), and putting my tablecloth back on the dining table. I was thinking I'd thaw some meat and plan supper for a change. It seemed like a grand plan until I got out of bed and dragged myself into my recliner.
As you may have guessed, none of that happened.
Another biggie on my list is our Yorkie. She is in desperate need of a bath; of course, she's been in need for a couple of weeks now. I don't know why I keep putting it off. She stands statute still the whole time. She's beginning to look like a fatter version of the puppy we 'rescued' a few months ago. I wondered if I could find any tiny rubber bands to get the hair out of her eyes and if I'm brave enough to try and trim the hair around her eyes without her coming out looking like a Stooge? She has got to have her nails clipped but I do not have the nerve to do that. Bless her heart, she's always so happy to greet me when I get out of bed or when I get back home after being gone, in her mind, for days and days (I ran to town for groceries) by jumping up on me, wanting me to 'play' with her. What happens is I end up wearing enough band aids that I look like a mummy. I wonder if there is any way to cover up her nails so she can't scratch me
Ȧll my three a.m. plans play out in my mind where everything gets done in a timely and neat manner. Then I have a good laugh because I know most, if any, of this will not happen. Thank goodness for my better half. He's good picking up the slack around here and believe me there is a lot of slack.
A week has now passed, I'm still 'under the weather' and our glorious rainy, cool weather has morphed into a hot, windy inferno. I HATE HOT WEATHER! Yesterday granddaughter number one played softball with her recreational team in the steamy, windy, miserable heat. I came equipped, thanks to a great hubby, with a lawn chair, a handheld fan that I can use to squirt water on myself, and another fan we clipped to David's lawn chair that sent out a lovely mist. The only problem with this was the wind kept blowing it away from me, so David fetched an umbrella from the car and, viola, it trapped the mist and kept it on me. I couldn't really see any of the game but at least I wasn't melting, and I was there to show my support.
I wonder if I could invent a mister that would surround my lawn chair, but it wouldn't have to be hooked up to a water hose. It would have to be lightweight even when filled with water and capable of lasting four or five hours before needing another fill-up.
Yeah, right. I'll get right on that. As soon as I organize the house, put all the games back in the game closet, do the laundry, dust, mop, bathe the dog, and fix a meal (any meal) that requires preparation and cooking, not just cold cuts.
Sometimes 3:00 a.m. dreams can come true, can't they?