I cannot remember if I’ve told this story here before, so I will take a moment to tell it now. My first Christmas in this country, my mother-in-law bought me several rosebushes to plant in our ‘garden’ (if you can call a bunch of effin’ rock ground cover a garden) — because she knew I loved roses and considered them a part of what makes home home. I dug through the rich clay that veins these parts, and commended them to the ground. They did pretty darn well considering my neglect, and when we moved, I didn’t want to leave them behind. We were fortunate with the timing, and were able to port all those that didn’t die from neglect (all but one!) to the new house. Chronic fatigue still makes me a neglectful gardener, but it warms my heart to know that this tangible symbol of my mother-in-law’s unconditional love for me graces our home.
The call from the doctor came in, thankfully this morning. I was already starting to screw myself into a fevered pitch of anxiety, so of course, the call came when I was slamming words into my private diary about ‘when?!?!?’. The tl;dr is that everything was fine, actually! There was nothing serious, just that my calcium levels were a bit low and to try and eat with that in mind. Fair enough, I know that I’m lax on dairy, and that one or more of my meds has calcium-leeching properties. I don’t remember which ones, which means I’m going to have to look it up just to refresh myself of all the various warnings, ha ha.
So yeah, it ended up being a pretty good day after getting the phone call. The only thing that’s been a bit of a bummer is that my left knee decided to give up the ghost; I am nothing if not prone to bouts of severe irony. I’m hoping that I can soak it out tomorrow, since otherwise it’s going to be a sheepish call to the in-laws to see if they can play fetch on Wednesday. I would prefer to leave them be if I can, yanno?
Right, time to start herding childlings into/through the bedtime routine. Woo. xD