Gals and dolls, I am coming to you from my couch at 2:14 am Monday morning after a particularly trying Sunday. All day long I attempted to do things with 2 hands that acted and felt almost fingerless. Like 2 fists without fingers. Making even the most menial tasks like going to the bathroom, a real trick (or treat). I think that is just the way my 64-year-old fingers are going to be from now on out. Uncooperative. Transforming daily tasks into a bit more of a challenge. Housecleaning, laundry, cooking. And for this moment in the wee hours of the morning, I am thinking I don’t want to be the ‘girl’.
It’s not that I want gender reassignment surgery. Or to start dressing like a lumberjack. I just wouldn’t mind having a lightning strike affect me very, very temporarily. For like 1 day. Maybe even just 12 hours. The waking hours. Maybe a Freaky Friday, again just from 7 am to 7 pm, where I am a ‘boy’ for just that length of time. ‘Boy’ as in 64-year-old male version of myself without any anatomical rearranging. Maybe a godmother could fly down and cast a spell to give me a short reprieve?
Reprieve From What?
A reprieve from being a ‘girl.’ A ‘girl’ who needs a very temporary reprieve from:
- being the one who cleans the poop stains from the sides and rim of our 3 toilet bowls (so thankful, however, to have 3 toilet bowls to clean and the indoor plumbing that goes with them)
- using the long-handled pumice stone to fruitlessly attack the lime, calcium and other hard water stains from the floor of our shower (and yet so glad to have hot and cold water delivered to said shower at the touch of the faucet)
- fishing my own gunked up gray hair from the clogged drain in my lavatory by using anything long enough with which to pull it out including my eyebrow tweezers and manicure scissors (wish that hair would just stay on my head for pity’s sake)
- sticking my hands in cold soapy but sudsless dishwater before going up to bed to scrub the skillet I was too tired to wash at dinner (blessed to have 3 meals a day+ and modern conveniences on which to cook)
- shoveling the kitty litter twice daily to retrieve the by-products of the Fancy Feast white meat chicken primavera I scoop into the kitty bowls at mealtime morning and evening (thankful for healthy kitties and our Saturday morning family time in bed)
- washing, drying, folding, ironing all the clothes – in that order – on Mondays and Tuesdays of almost every week of the year (I do realize that my BFF Sharon, 2 of you and I are the only ones left on planet Earth who iron but I so appreciate the look of a wrinkle-free shirt on handsome PC)
- having to think of what we are going to eat for dinner 4 or 5 nights a week, and what to pack for PC’s lunch, and quickly whip up for him for breakfast (before he dashes out the door to a job from which he would really like a reprieve…but probably not to the extent of being ‘the girl’ who…)
- finding new recipes, making grocery lists, shopping for food or making what feels like endless orders for Walmart pick up and putting it all away then still struggling to think of something to cook (so grateful, though, that I don’t have to hunt and gather, or even fish for each meal, although time beside a quietly moving stream might be welcome now and then)
- endless organizing – my scrapbook paper all day Sunday by pattern or theme, bottles of spices in ABC order, the cans in the pantry by type -soup, vegetable, tomato-based (chopped tomatoes, sauce, paste, Rotel), our junk drawers, the clothes in our closet by color order, vitamins and supplements into little plastic pill boxes – all possibly somewhat self-necessitated and inflicted activities (sincerely glad, though, to have ready-made clothes to wear and food to alphabetize)
- the dishwasher that is eternally full of clean dishes that need to be put away (with the exception of that skillet above with the stuck-on food from dinner)
- having to get up 2-3 times in the night (and at the theater mid-movie) to go to the bathroom as my ‘plumbing’ no longer works right to hold everything in and keep everything dry until I can get to the bathroom and get un – belted, buckled, snapped and buttoned using 2 fingerless fists (so very, very thankful for my 2 precious daughters whose pregnancies may have caused my internal parts to have shifted or stretched causing this leakage in later life – can you say TMI??)
- worrying about whether to drink that glass of water ‘this’ close to bedtime for fear of floating in the middle of the night
- suffering with moods that swing wider than the pendulum on Big Ben (even though I take my crazy meds for OCD and depression every single day of this world, and am long post-menopausal with nothing really to blame them on other than being a ‘girl’)
I’m tired tonight. Make that this morning. Now 3:07 am. I just need a few hours of not being the ‘girl.’ And then I will be fine again.
Let me go on the record saying PC is a wonderful, wonderful husband and this post is in no way a reflection of the things he makes or expects me to do. Or a reflection of the things he refuses to do. I think he has done and would do about any of the above. Okay, maybe not organize the scrapbooking paper by print or alphabetize the spices. But he would do anything else. And has. He ‘cooks’ more than once a week every week = Taco Bell, McD’s, panda food (Panda Express). And can probably out-clean me in every room. Well, he doesn’t dust but will do everything else.
I have a wonderful life partner.
It’s just that tonight (this morning?) I am tired. Our house is still semi-upside down after having the new flooring put in upstairs and a busy week last week that has me behind on my chores. It’s Monday. I want to whip everything into shape so I can scrapbook with my sister on Facetime later this week. Or maybe I wish that a fairy godmother would appear. And just for a day do all the cooking, cleaning, scrubbing, washing, drying, folding, ironing for me. Actually, I enjoy cleaning house or at least the fruits of my labor. But just not today.
Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night feeling frazzled?? Wishing you could have a break from being the ‘girl’?? Just for a day??
Mid-afternoon yesterday, I received a text from a dear friend letting me know that the husband of one of our mutual friends has been referred to hospice. This sweet man has battled stage 4 prostate cancer like a warrior. For 5 years. With his warrior wife at his side every step of the way. He is still fighting but his body is just so tired, so sick. I cannot imagine that degree of exhaustion. And worry. And fear. We are all praying for their peace and strength and comfort. I wish there were something else I could do. The hospice care my mom received in Kentucky from Bluegrass Care Navigators was such a blessing. Everyone deserves that assistance.
So, God (and Paul and all of you reading this tirade), please know how grateful I am to have the wonderful life I have. To be healthy. To have a home and family and opportunities. Clothes to wash, food to fix, a house to clean. Please, God, give George and Vita some rest, some peace. Hope you will join me in praying for my friends and for all of those living with a cancer diagnosis.
Back to bed. Thank you for listening. God, please hold the Garcias close.
Hugs and kisses,