Am not complaining. Am simply noting, for the sake of those who may be misinformed, that Grace does not erase exhaustion. No sir, it does not. And again, I am not selling Grace short, because it saved my tattered old ass, but gawdern, I am one tired piece of nothing sweet. Like there is thunder riding on my shoulders. Like my blood is full of very, very wet sand. Or maybe one of those morning baby pee diapers--you know the ones--so heavy you totally miscalculate the trashcan toss and it fwaps the floor and you just know that such mass does not exist without some sort of damage. (How gross is that? but in no way hyperbolic. Sad. I know).
Perhaps I will start taking care of my old self again. No promises, but you know. Perhaps I will shield my eyes and go into the sunlight and that awful sandy/diapery wetness will begin to dry a bit. That would be more Grace, now wouldn't it? Perhaps I will overcome the distance between the compost pile and the vegetable garden without needing gatorade at the clothesline. That would be so cool, so freaking cool.
Yeah, I am still so topped off with worry and stress that I can feel the bubbling in my head. We have economy issues, house issues, health issues, co-pay issues, marriage issues, schedule issues, what-about-me- should be-thinking-about-graduate-school-by-now issues (that one is mine alone, btw) but I think that for tonight I will focus on the compost to garden thing.
Baby steps. With Grace holding my sticky silly little hand.
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