Sunday, March 25, 2007

Bustle


So I'm discovering this week that apparently I'm really not functional enough to, oh, finish a sweater in any reasonable amount of time, but apart from that, things are okay.

I've been digging out from things this week. We had some dead houseplants. So I got some new ones, and re-potted the ones that really, really needed it, like the long-suffering coffee plant, and the aloe near the stove that has I swear to god only about half an inch of soil left in the pot after falling into the sink ten too many times. The lime plant is still happy and making a whole bunch of new limes for us just now--whee! I seem to do best with plants that appreciate benign neglect. Geraniums, for example, really thrive when you let them dry out totally and then finally water them. My geraniums are just ducky.

I also unearthed a bunch of (mostly) clean laundry and other clothing type items, and did a pile of ironing. I had some housecleaners for a while that would sometimes take my piles of stuff and jam everything into a plastic bag and then stick the plastic bag in a closet somewhere. This is how I found my gray turtleneck that I hadn't seen in about two years. Also several sets of curtains. Anyway, got to the bottom of several piles. And there are now some healthy (so far) new plants around. Yay!

Thank you, you guys, for your righteous outrage. It helps to know it's not just me, that some stuff sounds crazy to non-crazy people, too. I stayed home from the non-support group Thursday. The person who runs it is a friend of some friends, so I do have to bite my tongue a little bit, but if she ever follows up I think I'm going to just say I don't think the group's a good fit for me.

I am working toward fully functional, and some days, I think I can see it coming, but now and then, I notice that I'm not really all there. Who knew ironing was going to be such an emotional trip? I dreamed about dh more this week, too. There are probably several reasons why it's felt like an endless week. The ironing--well, I was starching cloth napkins ('cause I like to, that's why, shhh), and that dredged up this big thing. Big thing being that dh was positive that he was allergic to laundry starch. He was allergic to some kinds of bandage adhesive, which he discovered in his teens when he had an emergency appendectomy, but the laundry starch thing was based on him going on a business trip and having this horrendous sweating, heart racing, all kinds of scary, and it went away when he took off his shirt. He called me from his hotel with this whole story. And now, I think he may have been having a small heart attack then. And that the shirt was a coincidence. And I never put the pieces together until I was ironing napkins this week.

It changes nothing. It would not have, probably. And even if it would have, that's not the way things happened. Joan Didion writes that she keeps going back to what happened, and she eventually realizes that she's searching for a way to change something so that her husband dying didn't really happen. I'm pretty sure I'm doing the same thing. My head knows it won't help. But the animal part of me keeps trying to find a way for him to still be alive, keeps flying around in circles looking for where he might be, keeps wondering how to fix this. And is it really my fault, somehow. Wondering what I have to do to get to be with him again, please; I'm so sick of this, now, can I just go home to my husband and talk over this whole thing? No? How about if I do--

So it's been a long week. Looking for magic. The magic is from other places, like you guys and your astonishing patience and gentleness. And from spring. Wonderful kids. Really cool sock yarn. My cousin's having a baby--that's some pretty serious magic right there, too. Thank you, everybody. See you around.

7 Comments:

Blogger Carole Knits said...

I don't blame you at all for being sick of this. You have shown remarkable courage thesre past months.

5:31 PM  
Blogger farm-witch said...

Urgh....the hard stuff is so hard. I hope the magic keeps on happening to you and that you find peace. I know it doesn't mean much but - you amaze me.

8:39 PM  
Anonymous OldRound said...

I like to think (as I really don't know) that you will always, forever dream of him.
That's a powerful story/association. Writer's try to come up with those kinds of links between insignificant daily details and the larger life picture. I don't think I'll forget it.
You are on some journey.

9:51 PM  
Anonymous Suzanne said...

Righteous outrage over house plants? I knew I had missed something. I cannot fathom that the so-called support group told you that you were "too real." Oh wait, it was "too raw" - same difference. They should get their story straight before dragging someone through that kind of rejection.

Lighter thoughts: "pilates" as the plural of that old Roman absolutely cracked me up. Have you ever heard anyone use the expression "Jesus H Christ"? When I was learning about parthenogenesis in grad school, I decided that the "H" probably stood for "haploid."

And a calendar note: see my blog for an invitation that may interest you and your students.

Hugs.

8:13 AM  
Blogger Lucia said...

It's not your fault, and all of us are just a little crazy. And every single one of us wishes we knew the magic that would turn back time.

I am on a diet that forbids alcohol, coffee and chocolate, so you can have my share for a while, but you'll have to put up with my being slightly crabby as well as nuts. (Dang. I can't have those either.)

10:45 AM  
Anonymous Erica said...

Small magic is the only kind I believe in.

Then again, if Lucia can survive a diet that forbids alcohol, coffee, and chocolate, I may start taking big magic a little more seriously.

7:10 PM  
Blogger Lorena said...

A writer, Jane Yolen, says to 'touch magic, and pass it on.'

I wish I could touch all the magic in the universe, just to be able to send it your way.

9:33 PM  

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home