Life is suffering. I have a whole lot of life right now. Today was hopefully what I like to call the hump day of a flare, the worst day in a string of days that progressed from “what’s going on I feel weird” to “holy fudgeing crap I can’t breathe”. My theory and my prayer to the Universe is that tomorrow will begin the string of days that starts with “hmm, what was I so upset about yesterday?” and ends with “I’m going for a run! Bye!”.
How many days? There’s no telling. Rheumatoid Arthritis is a quirky fudgeer and the universe seems to know my absolute love and adoration for surprises and how much I completely abhor any kind of structure or foreshadowing and how I just can’t get enough of platitudes like “live every day as if it were your last!”, so I got the best of the best of all the fun diseases.
So days like today and the ones leading up to it, it’s like watching a powerwheels battery decrease. (see? clever!) Monday, the car is awesome, fast and kid drives for hours. Every day since, you get a little less from the car until Thursday the kid might as well get out and push it. The gears complain, the motors whine, and finally the child gets out and says “my car is broken! need to charge the battery!”
So here I sit, mid project that should have taken about 2 days to complete including paint drying time. Waiting. Waiting for my fine motor skills to return so that I can work the screwdrivers and pliers, waiting till I can kneel with a reasonable expectation that I’ll be able to get back up on my own.
Tomorrow is the day though, the coast toward normalcy. I’m on a trickle charger, and every day I’ll get a little stronger. In the meantime, fudge it. Any project that takes a lot longer than it should just gives me that much more time to enjoy the process. right? Now will someone explain that to my 5 year old?