The Honeymoon is Over

This gall bladder removal; the relationship with the surgeon--feels kind of like a one night stand. We meet. We schedule surgery. I have surgery. I go in for post-op visit. We say good-bye, hopefully never to cross paths again.

Well the vacation [of sort] is over. Tonight I prepare. Tomorrow I re-enter the work world. Still bruised with dissolvable stitches that have emerged from my belly button. (I feel like a dog food bag, pull the thread to open the package.)

It sure doesn't take long to rather enjoy being forced to relax, read a book, watch bad movies and nap.

Then again I miss the hallway exchanges, from squeaky voices, of "Hi Mrs. Avery" and waist hugs from warm hearts of small people. I might, dare I say, miss syrup day in the cafeteria.

So in preparation for possible exhaustion I am preparing dinner for tomorrow (slow cooked pulled pork). All the while plotting my Tuesday nap outside D's piano teacher's house. Cold car, warm coat, hood pulled up and over my head covering my face--doubles as warmth and darkening mask. Thirty minutes of delightful rejuvenation. Even if I look like a dead person in a curb parked car.

I digress.

I just ate a Dove caramel filled milk chocolate candy, yummmmm! The wrapper message says "sleep under the stars tonight". Not exactly an option, or a smart choice--considering the outside temperature. So I take that as a suggestion to wash my sheets. Clean sheets must be the closest thing to sleeping under stars in the winter. Now I wait for the buzz of the dryer to summons me.

Its seems everyone in the house has dispersed to different rooms, different computers, different background noises--TV, dishwasher, iPod music... We are alone with ourselves, yet not alone. The warmth of family is still present. (As are a few dirty dishes in the sink.)

Until tomorrow...