Jerry lending aid and comfort

I am so glad January is over.

First I was sick, then my daughter was sick, then my husband was sick, then I got sick AGAIN.  Our house was like a giant TB ward with hacking, miserable bodies laying around everywhere, including the floor. 

In the midst of which I had two enormous deadlines.  I never have deadlines.  Why would I? Unemployed people don’t have deadlines!

Except when they are on their death beds, apparently.

I also had these terrible dreams, like the one where I had two hours to pack my entire house into a few suitcases and NO ONE would help me.  Or the other one where I was late for work but I had NO IDEA where my job was or what I was supposed to do once I got there–even if I COULD ever get my house packed into those suitcases.

I was so glad when my husband finally got sick.  Not because he was sick, but because (if you follow me here) it meant I’d really been sick, too.  

Fortunately though, I was a great comfort to him in his time of trial.  For instance, I looked at him one day when he was coughing his lungs out and clearly dying, and said brightly:  ”Wow, I really feel validated now.  You are really SICK.  I guess I was not just a MALINGERER last week after all!!” 

Overcome by my great sensitivity and understanding, he was immediately healed.  He then jumped up and made me a cup of tea, rubbed my back for several hours, brought me chocolate and made reservations for the two of us to have a romantic recuperation in Hawaii.   

Ha.

Hey. You blog for your reasons.  I’ll blog for mine.

This is the pitiful, drugged-out creature parked in a chair next to my computer today.  Jerry had surgery on his paw this morning, and doesn’t want to eat, or drink, or move.  Just gives a pitiful little whine every now and then.

It’s just a wee bit hard to concentrate on my work.

Do you want a drink? A popsicle?  Should I turn up the heat?  Can I get you something to read?  I keep asking him, as I plump up his pillows.  I have several bottles of pills for him, too, which he can’t have until he eats something.

Are you ready to eat yet?  A sausage sandwich, maybe?  Would you like one of the cats?

Pitiful.

I have a deadline in two days, too.  So what do I do… take him to childcare?  Hire a sitter? 

Maybe I should just tell him to snap out of it.  Hey! Come on, Buddy!  You think your life is tough?!?  It was just a glorified HANGnail, for goodness sake.  Get over yourself already!  Hey!  Up and at ‘em!!

Aww, shucks…

The days are short and dark.  Knoxville is unusually cold and we’ve had days of drizzle, making everything even darker and colder than ever.

It’s like living in Seattle again.  Or England.  This time of year in Oxford, the sun was already low when the kids came home from school at 3:30, and no one turned the heat on, just huddled in wool sweaters looking at their brochures for a Winter Holiday in the Canary Islands. 

Plus also drinking pot after pot of hot tea.  Better than sticking your head in an oven, I guess.

I couldn’t stand to stay at home today, so went out to lunch with friends and then lingered over errands, including a trip to Kroger where, in honor of the day’s drear,  I bought the ingredients for an easy British supper tonight: baked potatoes with tuna and sweetcorn.*

There are several ways to make this, but basically you simply mix a can or so of tuna with another can of corn, add a tiny bit of mayo to moisten plus lots of black pepper, and stuff in a baked potato.  That’s it. 

If you have to go all American or whatever you can add some dill weed, or even some cheese, but isn’t life hard enough? 

————

* ”Corn” is a generic word for grain in British English, so “sweetcorn” (or maize) is what they call the yellow stuff we sometimes eat off the cobb. 

I’ve had a very small week.

I’ve accomplished very small things, and for the most part stayed in a very small space to accomplish them — it’s been too cold to venture very far beyond the fireplace (I’ve not yet plugged in the space heater in my office).

Last weekend, I met people who ran prestigious small colleges and national museums, won Nobel Prizes, and discovered Hepatitis B viruses.

In their spare time, probably.

Meanwhile, I managed to replace the bathroom light bulb yesterday – yeah, me!

I was determined to get some work done yesterday, and set my list on the dining room table with happy face stickers *and* a clock next to it so I could keep track of the time and not waste it like I do so many days. I had guessed how much time each ask would take, and left lots of extra time at the end, too.

Plus also, did I mention I had Happy Face Stickers?

Things didn’t go exactly as I planned, however.

I couldn’t work in a cold house, and couldn’t just “get more firewood” either, because the wheelbarrow had to be emptied of other stuff first, plus there was a giant dead branch in the side yard which had to be dragged to the curb before I could get the wheelbarrow through anyway.

Plus also the dog wanted to play.

But I got the wood rack filled eventually, and kept the fire going all day too, which made the cat happy (see if you can find him in the Kitty Sauna).

I was supposed to finish some website stuff, but had forgotten to find some of the art I needed.  Then my email with art attached failed to “send,” so I had to start over. Plus also the warm- cozy- living- room- computer was dead, so I had to use the freezing- cold- office- computer instead, which meant I kept sneaking back to the living room to get warmed up again.

Then I messed up my daughter’s plans. I took a shower but forgot both my makeup and the stuff for my hair that keeps me from looking like a dandelion, even though I had to give a neighborhood presentation later that evening.

I didn’t even get to the laundry.

I was supposed to update the neighborhood’s database, too, using a spreadsheet one of the reps had LABORIOUSLY updated, BY HAND, and couldn’t find the damn thing. 

Anywhere. 

Naturally, there are no other copies either.

So I had to practically clean the whole house instead, looking for it.

This morning I am starting over again. I also decided to reward my yesterday-self a lot of posthumous Happy Face Stickers, for all the things I didn’t plan yesterday but got done anyway.

I still don’t have any idea where that spreadsheet is, but I do now have a clean(ish) house! 

Yeah me, again! 

I’m beginning to guess that this is probably about as good as it gets.

A line attributed many times to Shakespeare but actually it’s from American author/critic/poet and wit Dorothy Parker. She is reported to have exclaimed “What fresh hell is this?” when her train of thought was interrupted by a telephone. She then started using it in place of “hello” when answering the phone or a knock at her door.In many ways she can be considered the patron saint of all tech support workers.   (Hat Tip)

And patron saint, too, of all people who work at home — especially those of us who need to answer anyway in case it’s one of the kids. 

Yeah  I know: “Must get caller ID… “