Breakfast down, dishes done, body washed and dressed, and … living room swept. Which means … furniture has been moved, and my poor Fella’s equilibrium is going to be shaken up when he gets home, and he will (if the past repeats itself) attempt to browbeat me, and that will piss me off, and our happy-getting-alongness of the past few days will disappear. Sadly, that is the price of changing anything around here without okaying it with him first. Which I refuse to do. It’s not as if I’m making any irreversible changes or as if I have no right to.
Besides, it’s worth it. I need change, even if it’s only in small ways every once in a while. Fella will be forced to adjust, and although it’s uncomfortable for him, perhaps he will find the new arrangement an improvement once he gets used to it. I think so. (Of course, I will just change it again. Poor laddie!)
My sis called my guru and made an appointment for psychic readings while I’m visiting her city. I have been saying to Mom: Please come and talk to me. If you can, this is your perfect opportunity to be heard.
I’ve worked an hour, eaten a bagel, washed and dressed, and gone out to fill the birdfeeders. It is snowing heavily; we’ve had several inches overnight. I’m trying not to worry about Fella making it safely home from a town and hour-and-a-half away where he went early this morning for an 8:30 appointment. As usual he doesn’t have his friggin’ cellphone turned on, so I can’t put my mind at ease one way or another. He’s probably back in the area and hard at work already, safe and sound.
Fella managed not to get upset with the moved furniture. Surprise surprise! Good for him. Only one comment: “There’s nothing under the couch now.” He worries about the legs making dints in the cork flooring.
Either he’s getting used to the frequent changes, or he’s learning to hold his tongue about them.