We all know I've been desperate to move into my own home where I wouldn't feel guilty about sitting on my butt writing all day....
What we didn't know was that as soon as we moved in I would get hit with my first legitimate illness in years. Not just sinus issues but knock-me-on-my-rear-good-thing-you-didn't-let-it-go-on-longer-or-it-would-be-pnuemonia bronchitis. I've never had bronchitis before this but now I feel so bad for all those times my mom had it and I just didn't get why her cough was making her so tired. Bronchitis is awful. And now I'm on round two of antibiotics. Somebody should have gone to the doctor a month ago when everyone was telling her to go.
Also ironic, all that time I spent desperately wishing for new contacts because my glasses were crap? Well now I have my contacts but my eyes are so dried out from all the medicines I'm taking that it feels like buckets of sand in my eyes. And I'm wearing my glasses Ben Franklin style because the arms broke off and I don't know where they are and my optometrist is out of town until tomorrow. And I'm desperate for new glasses.
The other night I was stomping around the kitchen, thoroughly irritated by all of this nonsense when I poked my head into the living room and remembered exactly how blessed I am with my wheezing lungs and scratchy eyes. All of my menfolk were lined up on the couch, laughing and having a good time. The cats were snuggled together behind them on the back of the couch and the dog was spread across their feet. We have a small home. 1,000 square feet. We have a truck with a taped-on taillight. I have Ben Franklin glasses and no energy to write or read at the end of the day. My books are never exactly what I want them to be and I only sold four books this entire month. Most people don't even actually regard me as an author. I'm not even cool enough to be considered a local celebrity. And this is a small town. But dang it, seeing them all there, comfortable and happy...well being me is a wonderful thing.