All this navel gazing self care stuff has given me a massive headache, so I decided to channel my old feisty spinster self and snap out of it.
(It occurs to me that Stewey held me accountable and kept me from going too far down the self-indulgent spinster hole. I had to occasionally tend to his needs and wants and desires in place of my own, and this kept me from the wallow. I'm not good when I have time on my hands to ponder, especially when it involves my world instead of somebody else's. He was, if nothiing else, a massive reality check that prevented me from taking myself too seriously.)
I had a healthy breakfast, took a long hot bath, lit the crackpot spinster fireplace, and am now happily in fresh sweats stitching away.
Back, in other words, in my lane.
I've decided to inquire about home dialysis tomorrow to see if that might be an option for me. The truth of the matter is that my upper arm is just too dang painful a site for these needles, and the noise and chaos and anxiety of having to go to the unit is starting to take its toll. So instead of fretting over it endlessly, I'm going to see if I can't grab hold and get back in the driver's seat.
I'm also getting better at putting the headphones on and listening to Spinster things (like Flosstube) when Magoo is here. I love him dearly, I really do, but it's all sports all the time on the TeeVee and sometimes a girl just needs a Merchant Ivory film or two to calm her nerves. We're still spending time together, but now I can go to my own little quiet world while he hollars at the Sixers.
So there's the update. Clean and sparkly and stitching for the rest of the day, Dearies. We seem to have turned this little goat rodeo right around. Let's hope it stays headed in the right direction!