We are three days and counting with no water at Casa Poops and there ain't enough hand sanitizer in the world to fix that. Therefore, I went to bed sick at 5:30 yesterday and got up in time to get my stuff together for face washing and tooth brushing at the sawmill. The head cold I've carried for almost two weeks now is not getting much better since the steroids ran out and my shoulder is acting up again as well. If it weren't a freaking WEEK until payday I might go see the doc and get more meds but hey. That's how it rolls here in the land of the free. It's like these things are happening to show me that my place is not here for much longer, which we already know. As much as I'd like to think of living my life out here on this farm, I know it's not realistic. Don't own= can't defend. End of story. It makes me really sad to think of our family's years on this place becoming dust in the wind like all memories.
I think a lot of the pain that I'm feeling now is grief for Faith and Debbie both of whom were lost to me in a short time. I remember our last conversation when she told me about gaining 40 lbs of fluid while her husband was hospitalized and she quit taking lasix because she was on the road with him. She described to me how she had to wheel herself around in a chair at the hospital to get to him because of her CHF. Her son and I both told her she was messing with fire so she decided to double up on the meds and stay put rather than go in herself. She was all superwoman like that. Not me ya'll...I'll whine and cry my way right into a sickbed if you'll let me.
I sort of look at the sorting and selling and cleaning of the past year as a rite of passage to wherever the next place is on my agenda. I can feel myself being led rather than digging in on one particular scenario of how things will go because Lord knows we can't predict when something's not gonna go as planned. I'm the poster child for that idea!
If you smell anything skunky it's probably me because daily baths require an extra effort right now.