Whatever Comes Next...
I was reminded this morning why it is so hard for me to do "extra" things during the week. Mornings I have to unbend, unkink, work out the stiffness, get the coughing over with, get to work and after about an hour or so I'm feeling like a human, finally.
Last night several of us girls went to a movie in Forrest City, and since it didn't start till 7:20, I drove home, ate a quick supper (pizza), petted Oscar and caught up on the day with Paul (kind of slow day for both of us, or at least he was pondering some things, so it was pretty quiet). I picked Jean up at 6:45-ish and we met the other girls at the theater. About half-way through the movie I thought, oh, my goodness, I could just go to sleep! Must I sit here for the duration? And I began to be twitchy. But I adjusted my position, took a deep breath and relaxed. It was a "chick flick" (Nights in Rodanthe) and most of us were crying by the end. It was good to be with friends away from work, too. It was 9:30 when I got home, showered and went straight to bed. This morning, well, I've already said why I don't do many extracurricular activities after work...
So this being Wednesday, do I have the energy to go to Bible study tonight? And sit on a hard chair? For an hour and a half? These are "reasons" anyone can come up with, but am I using "age" as a crutch, literally? I don't need to be doin' that. Beck said it's because we don't do more and we should be doing more. I have my routine and it is not easy nor do I want to disrupt it often. After being off for a week and doing what I wanted to, yet all the while exerting the extra effort to climb 15 steps up to our condo every time we returned to it, I guess I do just about what I make myself do. And I suppose that's important - just doing whatever comes next. If I just stop doing things, soon I won't be able to. "Use it or lose it." Like giving Oscar a bath, walking him (he's trained to the yard now, so that does help), going to work every day. I haven't been to a rheumatologist, but have thought about it. I've often thought I have fibromyalgia, but the road to that diagnosis is a long and grinding one. The orthopaedic MD offered Lyrica back in the spring, but I declined - for now. As long as I can, I'll just depend on my Advil and keep chugging.
Speaking of which - my closets are the next challenge and I sorely hate to tackle them. There are winter clothes in the attic that have to be brought down. (The nice cedar closet in the garage needs cleaned out, too. That was its initial purpose - to store off-season clothes. Now it is just full of never-worn clothes.) I am not a good discarder and cleaning closets requires moral support and "permission" to give things away. Maybe my girlfriends could help me with that!
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