Now I’ve reached the point of just killing time until I go back to work. So, here are some of the thoughts shit-kicking around in my brain.
I’m not sure how I feel about going back to work. On the one hand, I like living like a house cat, or a first wife with an excellent divorce lawyer. On the other hand, I also like having something to do and a place to go to every day, not to mention I’m quite fond of having money to buy things like food and electricity.
And of course, I’m finally feeling physically well enough to accomplish things around the house, just as my time runs out to do said things. I can pretty much lift my arms all the way over my head, but activities requiring big stretches are still out of the question, as is any heavy lifting. Sometimes I forget this (when you’re recovering from a bodily insult like surgery and begin feeling well, you forget that you have limits, I guess), and will overextend, only to have my body remind me, “Nope, not that. Oooh, not that, either, sister.”
Dood has dragged out the Rubbermaid storage containers full of summer clothing for me to do our wardrobe switch, but have I even begun my winter clothes-summer clothes switch? Well, let’s see, I have dug through a couple of the bins looking for things to wear as the days have grown warmer. Does the mix-mastered pile of clothing in the middle of my closet room count as being “switched?” Also, my sweaters have been dry-cleaned and are sitting in the corner, waiting to be packed with mothballs and stored away. So close, yet oh so far.
I don’t want to hear anyone say a word about mothballs. The wonderfully effective naphthalene! I get it, it’s poison, VOC’s, yadda yadda yadda. However, the one year I tried to do “environmentally friendly” woolen storage, with cloves and lavender, I ended up with two beautifully-scented cashmere lace scarves and nibbly little holes in all of my wool clothes. I literally had moths fluttering through my house all summer long. I could almost hear them taunting me, “neener neener neener! We are chowing on your Ralph Lauren Blue Label sweaters!” The little bastards also ate the fleece lining out of my cute Ugg clogs. So yeah, I go full-on mothballs for storage. Non woolen/moth-prone garments like long johns and flannel can go into regular boxes with the enviro-friendly storage stuff, but if it came off a sheep, it gets chemicals.
(Note to self about cashmere, Dood is not allowed to borrow my cashmere scarves next winter, due to the fact that he tends to be careless about where he leaves things. Some customer of his is now storing my Italian cashmere for the summer. My ass is still chapped about this.)
I haven’t written a single thank-you note, but I have moved the boxes of thank-you cards from the shelf where they were stored to a table where they can shame me every day. PS, Why are you not ordering note cards from Crane’s? If you go to their sale section, you can get beautiful engraved note cards for about ten bucks. I ordered these nifty black cat cards today to replenish my card supply which will be depleted after I write all those thank you notes. Plus, you are supporting a 100% made-in-the-USofA company.
I spent a full day last Wednesday going through insurance claims online and matching them to the bills I have received, and then paying what was owed. I got about halfway through that task before I lost my will to live. That stack of papers has been languishing on the kitchen table ever since. I suppose I will tackle it again tomorrow. As the saying goes, never put off till tomorrow what you should have done last week.
A few weeks into this whole adventure, I tried to log into my work email. My network password appears to have expired in my absence, so the last email I can see on my work-issued iPhone is dated 5/11, the day before my surgery. I can’t even access the VPN from my laptop, so I guess I will spend my first day back at work re-establishing credentials so I can actually do work.
I was going to spend my lovely long summer days shredding several boxes of decade-old bank statements and other personal papers that I have been too afraid to throw away. But, well, fuck that noise. I just learned that there are shredding services that will bring a truck TO YOUR DOOR and shred while you watch. Or you can take that shit to them and they’ll shred it — while you watch. Either way, sitting and shredding two or three pages at a time on my $40 Office Depot shredder, which sounds — IN THEORY — like a good way to zone out while watching television, is for the freakin’ birds. Besides, as the machine fills up and I empty it, that cross-cut confetti gets everywhere. I’ll pay a hundred bucks to have someone else do it, just to get that shit out of my house.
I have not yet worn the compression garment my surgeon wants me to wear. I tried it on, and seriously, I don’t think I can get it on without a Valium. I’m going to try again today, but what with the forecast (heat and more heat), the outlook is looking grim. Not sure I can handle wrapping myself in elastic before dressing on a 90-degree day.
NOTE: I’m not really complaining about the heat. I remember February. I REMEMBER FEBRUARY!
That’s all for now.