As of tonight, I have successfully passed test number two. I've been out and actually sat through two library presentations.
This is big.
It was not very long ago that I wouldn't have been able to do that. I would have been connected to either my bed or my bathroom-it's a really strange thing to have that be your universe. Even stranger to take the risk to get out but it has to be done and so far/so good/knock wood.
Also ya know, those people who are out there speaking at libraries? They Know Things and you cannot pick up those kinds of things shuffling from your bed to the fridge.
Item of Interest.
I've been back at massaging. I mean, on the one hand, it's an awful thing to have to be doing post-abdominal surgery-I'd much prefer sitting behind a desk playing Tiddley Winks. (Hey is that a job? Are there benefits?) But the sad fact is that the dancing around the table of massage-if you will and you don't have to-has only been a great stimulant to my peristalsis action and okay that whole spiderwebs in my checkbook thing. (I was just charged 12 bucks by Chase Bank because my balance had dipped and my direct deposit had fallen below $500 a month. Woo Hoo.)
But something funny had happened and I think it's Worth Noting.
I started back doing one massage per shift. My back hurt, my front hurt-you get the picture. Then I went to two with a break in between. (In my heyday-and when I say 'heyday', it was actually more like Hey Why Do I Have To Be Doing This Shitty Work/What did I do wrong in a former life? kind of a thing) I was doing five in a row which was nuts but I could not stand the moronic 'Verrrgoes arrrre two faced' kind of horoscopular jibber-jabber in the break room and I wanted out of there as quick as I could).
So then I was at two with a break. And then all of a sudden they gave me a 90 and an hour-back to back and I'm at my house and I am sitting in front of the computer and I am Really Mad. I know I cannot do 2.5 hours in a row. Not yet.
And I am shaking my fist at the computer-lamenting my lot in life and P says: You have to tell them.
And I'm like, Whattttttt? Why don't they ASK me what I can do?
And I thought for a moment and recognized this all as that thing where you can't get mad at your husband for not buying you a diamond(or whatever)because he does not possess the skills to be able to read your mind. Same thing jobs, right? Duh.
So I was able to transfer this newly found genius over to my other job-I needed a bathroom break at 3:00-as opposed to a whole hour for lunch and they went to Great Lengths to accommodate me and it was win win win win win win win.
One day this week it was sunny and I was coming back from work and I felt like my skin was not so...well, I felt like it has started to kinda forgive me but putting it through so many hole pokes.
Then I had the most magnificent thing happen, I was in the shower thinking about something and all of a sudden I realized I had an actual cartoon idea.
I wasn't even looking for one. It was The Coolest Thing.
Next time: Asking for help.