Today is not a good day. I've woken up all twitchy and nervous. Am I headed for a gastroparesis attack? Or am I actually driving myself towards one? I can't put my finger on it but I'm shaking and disinterested in eating anything. When I feel like this it's hard to even lie down and fall asleep until it passes. I absolutely hate feeling this way.
I paid the bills this morning and realize I spent a little more than I thought in Sudbury. And there've been a few too many meals out this month. Add to that stress, my daughter can't stop arguing with her girlfriend and it gets right under my skin. I do not like to hear it and I certainly don't like Kennedy to hear grownups fighting.
I daren't go down to the craft room just yet. I'd likely make a card that just says "Bah". I will, however head down to exercise. I'll see if some endorphins get me over this creepy feeling.
I may write more tonight if today gets better. Meanwhile I'll take my whiny complaining self off to do something constructive.
Later: The day did improve. I finally shut my eyes for a nap and awoke refreshed. I guess my little freak out this morning was stress or nerves. When things aren't harmoneous around me I react physically. Anyway, I've had my exercise time and spent awhile on the phone with my mother. Now there is a lady with stuff to complain about. She's 86 with all that entails, plus blind. I hope that's not an inherited trait because being blind would really really suck. Hey! I just realized I anticipated living into my old age. Yay!
I made a couple of cards meant for very special friends. Sadly, my tidy, lovely, craft room had been visited by Kennedy while I had that nap. The family member caring for him claims they were distracted. Kennedy unwound the ribbons stored prettily on the dowel, tipped over a bottle of glitter and a few other things. I had to smile while I was cleaning the mess up. It looks like he had a ball.
Off now to check Facebook and go up to read at a reasonable time. Hopefully tomorrow I'll wake up feeling good again.
No comments:
Post a Comment