This month I have already had to “take a pill” four times; yesterday I laid down around 1:30 and slept till 4. And today I awoke with my neck out again. WTF? I don’t know how people who live with chronic pain do it—I mean, remain optimistic and happy to be alive. I have trouble ignoring my discomfort enough to enjoy the day. It becomes a hard slog till the vise on my neck releases.
Number One Son sure didn’t want to go back to town last night after supper. Driving him was no fun, either. The roads have been graded after the storm, but there are still icy ruts, and although I drove slowly there was still one time I squealed as the slippery road threw the vehicle toward an icy slough and I thought we just might go into it. After that I drove home at 20 miles per hour instead of the 40 I’d been speeding along at. Yikes.
We were snowed in for one day on the weekend. Beau had our bed (I have moved back into it as a gesture of goodwill and because I am tired of sleeping on a hard mattress on a floor) covered with papers while he sat at the kitchen table, organizing his stuff for the tax man. I should get mine in order too; there’s only a few minutes of organizing for me though.
When Beau first started he thought he’d heap a little blame on me: “Thanks to you I can’t find anything.” I nipped that in the bud pretty quick. “You had plenty of time to put it all away yourself,” I reminded him, “and it is exactly as you had it, only in binders so it could be taken off the dresser and floor and put away.” He bit his tongue, which hurt, I imagine, because he has such a habit of lashing out at others the moment he gets a bit frustrated. He doesn’t like spending time doing his books, as evidenced by his avoiding it by wasting many hours watching TV this weekend or reading page after page of ads on the internet rather than taking care of overdue business.
One night this week as he lay asleep beside me I remembered an incident in the early years of our relationship, when we argued about something while driving on a highway in the next province, on our way to load up the rest of my stuff to bring out here, and he pulled the truck over and told me to get the hell out. I refused because I wasn’t about to be dumped off on the side of a road at night, and it all blew over fairly quickly as our tiffs usually do, but as I recalled it I thought “How did I ever get past that? Why wasn’t it a dealbreaker?”
I am still wondering.