The gift of a terrible day
It's been cold, dreary and rainy here today, and the gray skies were the perfect accompaniment to my mood. My week has been hectic, and the goals I had set for it disappeared in the shuffle of other people's agendas. A project I've been working on for two months was finally ready to be completed when it collapsed, got salvaged, collapsed again and another last minute surprise means it should close tomorrow. I'm not holding my breath. This particular roller coaster has flung me around, and I'll relax when the last signature is on the paperwork. The order in my home disappeared because I lost control of my time, and I need some peace in my environment to feel it in my mind. The flare up of my illness has been particularly bad this week, and pain has severely limited my mobility. I can only push through it for so long, and today I just had to rest but couldn't find any comfortable position. The pity party was in full swing.
Here's where my gift came. My husband went to the grocery store and actually brought home something besides chips and crackers. This came after yesterday when he mopped the floors when I was in a training seminar that had to be scheduled for Saturday because the rest of the week was so busy. My daughter did three loads of laundry and folded them, and she straightened the bookshelves in the office that had gotten so badly unorganized that books were cascading onto the floor. More than once, she told me that she didn't want me to have to do anything today -- other than give her her nightly backrub.
There are times when I feel like I can't quit going, and that my responsibilities will always exceed my available time. Leisure sometimes makes me feel guilty and lazy, yet it is something that I know is a basic human need. Rest, both sleep and unstructured time, nourishes and heals us. I think the dullness I've been experiencing really has been the result of all work and no play. Though today, I couldn't play, at least I didn't have to work. I feel very loved by my family and that a good night's sleep is shortly on its way. That's a good way to start the week.
family
Here's where my gift came. My husband went to the grocery store and actually brought home something besides chips and crackers. This came after yesterday when he mopped the floors when I was in a training seminar that had to be scheduled for Saturday because the rest of the week was so busy. My daughter did three loads of laundry and folded them, and she straightened the bookshelves in the office that had gotten so badly unorganized that books were cascading onto the floor. More than once, she told me that she didn't want me to have to do anything today -- other than give her her nightly backrub.
There are times when I feel like I can't quit going, and that my responsibilities will always exceed my available time. Leisure sometimes makes me feel guilty and lazy, yet it is something that I know is a basic human need. Rest, both sleep and unstructured time, nourishes and heals us. I think the dullness I've been experiencing really has been the result of all work and no play. Though today, I couldn't play, at least I didn't have to work. I feel very loved by my family and that a good night's sleep is shortly on its way. That's a good way to start the week.
family
posted by Cynthia at
10:54 PM
3 Comments:
I hope you sleep well, Cynthia. Zzzzzzzzzzz.
Ah...just when you think you're ready to pack it in, the other entities in your life step up to the plate. That's such a good thing...
Cynthia, We have some basic personality traits in common. I have bouts of mid night insomnia also. I usually go on the computer, not because I don't want to do anything else, but to keep the noise to a minimum. I have all my favorites organized in folders and subfolders as well. It's so wonderful when family members do acts of kindness and caring for you. That's the time I truly appreciate not being alone. When I think how when I was younger I wanted to be alone....I am thankful that I am not.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home