At Least They're Committed

It’s the little things, the things the world can’t touch.

I flip the light off and look up — it stays on. I’ve lived in this house 11 years now and still haven’t figured out the switches. A year or so after we first moved in the police came to our door. Our children were all home, so we weren’t as alarmed as we would be now. The red and blue lights flashing in the dead of the night, the doorbell and knock on the door. The neighbors had called, they said, because they’d seen the lights flashing on and off . . . they thought it was some sort of Morse code for “help.” Baffled, I finally determined it was probably just me trying to find the right switch.

But I digress and I haven’t even started really. The next five weeks are going to be tough. I already knew work was going to be overwhelming close to the launch and I’ve prepped — actually been excited for it — the past 2.5 years. I don’t mind that, despite that there are a bunch more demands on me than I’d accounted for at first. (Never, never will I teach a class again and that’s just the tip of the iceberg, oh and for clarity, Dez, it’s just one 50 minute class . . . I’ve had three nightmares about it in the past week.)

Mel dropped in soon after I dragged my sorry carcass back from the meeting and into the office. “How’d the pictures turn out?” she asked. “I guess OK, Darren came in and complimented me on them, which is sweet,” I say. “Are you supposed to be up and around taking pictures and walking and standing that much?” she says. “No,” I say truthfully and it’s not like I’m being a martyr or anything, it’s just that nobody has offered to help me.

Tonight Andre at Safeway mentioned being a trucker in his past life and how bad it sucked having to crawl under an 18-wheeler in this weather and take a sledge-hammer and knock chunks of ice off the brakes and we agreed that some things just aren’t good for your body and I told him quickly of my theory that working at the Rocky on the unyielding cement floor helped trash my hip. And he said he missed the Rocky, he knew when the JOA happened it was going to go down and nobody liked the Post, everybody liked the Rocky and I told him as I walked away with my Tums and Pringles for my sick husband that Scripps had an insurance plan that paid them mightily if the paper were to fail . . . and so it did . . . at the expense of my friends.  He yelled out, “The government! The government!” and I said yup, despite not being sure the government had anything to do with it, and walked out into the snow.

The snow! Oh, right. That’s what this is about. Left work a little before 6, grateful I had Dexter and wouldn’t have to walk so far. I finished my second article of the day at home and — again — practiced my class. Crap, I never sent the edited notes to Cheryl. Well, I got distracted and she said no hurry, especially since she sent them to me at 4 a.m. My attention was quickly taken upon my arrival to the meeting by an inquiry on Facebook asking if a study this person had read about really does cure pancreatic cancer, and that became my priority because it was clear to me that this person was suffering from this cancer or had a loved one who was. I was fortunate to contact the right people who quickly and sympathetically gave me an answer: The research is promising, but far from being a cure and isn’t even in human testing. So I told this young man that and prayed for him.

Wait, back to the point, snow! I dreaded it and prayed it would pass us over. But when I got home and was counting each step to the house while dragging my rolling bag in so I could work some more, I looked up and saw that the trunk of the tree in the front yard was covered with Christmas lights, and that the snowflake and copper reindeer lights were on the front porch, and there was a new Christmas doormat with Santa and a reindeer and when I stepped into the house the Christmas tree was up and glowing and there was a new 18-inch Rudolf with a flashing red nose standing beneath! Demon Spawn had decorated today and even gone out and purchased some fun holiday stuff. With that, and now that the snow has hit with big, fluffy, white flakes and a few minutes to myself, I have to admit it’s a beautiful scene.

I absolutely adore my son and am so grateful for him. So, yes, both my boys are out now and I want them here before the roads get slick. I wonder how I could have possibly had such wonderful children.

I’m supposed to go to joint class tomorrow. I don’t know how to get there in the snow. I cried a little at the meeting today because being in pain is fatiguing and sometimes it gets to me but it was fine because nobody notices me, which is cool because I love standing at the hand-dryers and turning them up to make my hair whip around me. Uncle Albert hasn’t paid us lately and we don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t think it’s up to me but D says I gave the final OK for him to stay but I wasn’t sure of what to do but I knew we couldn’t put him out. The dogs have been in for hours. Too cold for them, I wonder if I should put them out for a break?

I turned all the lights off after a bit of confusion and bumbling, which brings me back to my opening paragraph. I’m typing by the light of the Christmas tree and Rudolf. Yes, when I wake up tonight and have to pop a couple more pills for pain and brain, I’ll just step onto the landing and bask in Rudolf and snowflakes and Christmas lights and push away everything else until tomorrow.