Wednesdays are supposed to be writing days, but this week went differently. Today, instead of writing, I took my partner to be discharged from the oncologist because he’s been cancer-free for two years (yay!) Best doctor ever, BTW, and not just because of the good news. It’s been an odd journey, because I’ve felt like I couldn’t talk about it in public, not being my own story – or at least, not my body. So that is all that I will say about it for now.
We then purchased lumber to build a new bed for our oldest child, who is getting a Room of His Own. (I hope for genius in exchange, of course. Oh, wait. You need money AND a room of your own. Never mind, then.)
There were visits with friends, and haircuts, and chicken feed, and mattress testing, and greenhouse design, and refrigerator shopping, and TaeKwonDo, and a brief trip to the library, and the making of a pottery bowl that the cats can’t tip over. It contains poetry and fish. Pictures to follow, if I can ever get my camera to talk to my laptop.
(I’d better, or I’m going to have to erase all that IT work off my resume. Oh, the shame! Or I could Linux it. This laptop is always just one Windows crash from a date with Ubuntu. Do you think that the threat will keep it in line?)
In the event of my overcoming the cunning of Windows, there will also be video of our trebuchet escapades of Monday. This week, I have been living up to my Dilettante claims. If I can get this bed built before my son gets too tall for it, I will happily proclaim my Practical-ness from the rooftops. And that is my day of not-writing, in a nutshell.