Update #13 - Today is one of those days

 

Yes I know today is Tuesday.  Yes I know I should have posted on Sunday.  Yes I know I didn't post at all last week. 

Here is the thing.  Well actually a couple of things. 

First - I have a finished project, a pair of socks, but I can't post pictures because they are a test knit for next years' SuperSock World Championship.  Because of working on said socks I have not made anymore progress on my 54 pickup blanket. 

Second - I have cast on a toque to match my Heather Gansey that I knit last spring, but it is not really picture worthy as it is just two inches of ribbing at this point. 

Third - Some days go like this for me:

I become aware that I am awake and still trying to figure out the peculiarities of a dream I was having. The second I acknowledge I am awake I am aware of the anxiety that lives in my gut.  It feels like the butterflies you get before you have to give a speech, or present a project, only these butterflies have no reason to be there - there is no 'event' on the horizon, except the main event called 'life'. 

I reach for my robe, noticing that my husband is still sound asleep.  This means that there will be no coffee made.  This means I have to make it.  I don't want to.

I stand in the middle of kitchen looking at the espresso machine (it is quite noisy), and the kettle. I contemplate for a brief moment not having any coffee and just going to the couch to turn on the heating pad for my very sore back.  I am aware that everything is sore at this moment. 

I opt for the kettle.  How hard can it be? I ask myself.  

The answer?

Hard. 

I fill the kettle and put it on the burner.  As the burner turns to bright red I see smoke rising from the element - vestiges of last nights' dinner either on the burner, or on the bottom of the kettle.  I don't want to set the smoke alarm off so I remove the kettle and turn off the element. 

A deep breath.  I wipe the burner.  I wipe the bottom of the kettle.  I put the kettle back on the burner and start again.  I watch for a couple of minutes to make sure the smoke will not continue. 

I spoon five tablespoons of coffee into the bodium. I put the thermos in the sink.  I get my mug down from the shelf. The kettle starts to boil.  I pick it up before the whistle sounds.  

I pour the boiling water into the bodium and a little into the thermos to warm it up. 

I set the timer for four minutes. 

This is exhausting. 

I open the fridge to get out the two litre jug of milk and pour some into my mug.  I am astonished at how heavy two litres of milk can be. 

I put the mug into the microwave.  The timer beeps.  Four minutes is up.  I push the plunger of the bodium down very carefully and then set the microwave for thirty seconds to heat up the milk. 

I empty the hot water out of the thermos and pour the extra coffee into it for my husband to have when he wakes up. 

The microwave beeps.  I take out my mug and fill it the rest of the way with coffee. 

I walk to the couch.  I sit.  I put the heating pad on my lower back. I shake out the first half of the pills and vitamins I take before breakfast.  I wash them all down with the first hot sip of my coffee.  

I am exhausted.  

Making that pot of coffee felt like climbing fricking Mount Everest.  

It shouldn't be this hard. 

But it is. 

Somedays are like that.

Today was like that.

After lunch I went bird watching with my son.  It was lovely but the two kilometers was far too much.  I had to trick myself to keep going when all I wanted to do was sit down on the middle of the path and wail. 

It is too hard.  

I know why today is a hard day.  Today is a hard day for lots of people.  Maybe today was a hard day for you. 

But you know what? 

I can do hard things.  I can do hard things that someone else wouldn't think were hard at all. 

My point? 

Today is just one of those days.  Today is just a day.  

Tomorrow will be better.