I'm just plain tuckered. This is my state of being till zero hour (marching band) comes to an end the first of November. I can't hardly stay awake till 10pm. Friday night I slipped on my pajama bottoms and laid down on the bed, I woke in the morning with the shirt I wore to work still on. I think I dozed around 930pm. The celebratory margarita I drank just intensified my inflated exhaustion.
What were King Ralph and I out celebrating? We were celebrating that my mother-in-law was released from the ICU step-down and moved to the acute rehab center at the hospital across the street from my house. I can now stop planning on owning the parking garage at St. Louis University Hospital and now plan on walking some fat off my rear. My mother-in-law has a long way to go still but in terms of running a marathon I say she is at mile 14. She shows a will to get up and move forward. Her jumbled thoughts have an element of not-intended-humor...it is good to laugh at the troubles of life, it some how makes it easier to deal with.
I am so tuckered out, and it is just Monday, that I don't think I drag my body for a walk across the street this evening...I am instead driving across the street to see my mother-in-law.
Yesterday I traded doing laundry for making gumbo. Today I trade making dinner for doing laundry. Besides left over gumbo is better than when it's fresh in the pot. So while I am in the business of trading I don't feel so bad trading exercise for a car ride.
And, so, I say, let the week begin!