It all started as a lark.

However, now I am hooked.

Too old to play games some people say.

I say bunk.

Playing games keeps me from going round the bend and this game also gives me another chance to socialize with people of all ages.

That’s better than hurling birds at pigs. Besides….

I NEED the cold weather to go away. If I can’t get out in the fresh air and do some things I enjoy like walking in the park and fishing, I will go completely round the bend. I need the exercise and a stationary bike doesn’t cut it.

No matter what I do, I keep putting on weight. I wonder why.

Stress much? Gee, my husband has secondary progressive multiple sclerosis… maybe. “Stress causes the body go into crisis mode. As a result, the body begins to slow down and store fat.”

Get enough sleep? You know I don’t. “When you’re sleep deprived, your body can’t work to its best ability. The body’s reacts to a lack of sleep by storing fat.”

Then I get depressed and binge eat. “Comfort foods such as chocolate and other sweets may soothe the soul, but they expand the waistline.”

Yeah, I’m getting too fluffy.

The hospital bills are beginning to arrive.

Yes, we just got the first one from his stay back in October.

OMG.

They will have to be happy with small payments. We’ll never have enough to pay it all off at once and then there’s the four hospital stays after that one.

Yeah, really looking forward to those bills.

Blood from a stone, people. Blood from a stone.

When is it enough, not enough, and/or too much?

Lucy woke me early so I took her out, and I took Gavin out. Then I fed them and had a cup of coffee. I wasn’t exhausted but soon felt the downward tug of my eyelids as I tried to focus on my Age of Empires; Castle Siege game.

The couch called my name and Lucy wanted a cuddle buddy too. I tried. I did.

However, Gavin decided about then that he needed to go out again. The Curmudgeon failed to rise from his seat so I got up and took Gavin out, and Lucy too since she decided she could go.

My eyelids still heavy, I decided to leave The Curmudgeon alone with the dogs and seek out my bed that I haven’t slept in since October.

I slept.

I slept all day.

I woke at five to the sound of Lucy screaming for her dinner. The Curmudgeon was taking too long to suit her. I went downstairs, finished getting the dogs’ dinners, and then ours.

Later, sitting in front of my computer, I felt my eyelids striving to close again.

Aw. Come on. You slept all day!

Lucy sleeping

Some days it feels as though there’s not enough coffee in the world to wake me.

Yesterday was one of those days. I dragged ass all day.

What sleep I’d had, had come in fits and starts and without much rest.

Yep, I looked like this.

Something as simple as a haircut can lift one’s flagging spirits. I know it did mine yesterday.

Especially when it tied into much kindness from two ladies, one known, and another a stranger to me.

The known, my hairdresser, she did me a kindness I won’t forget.

The stranger, a customer of hers who joined in on our conversation about hospitals and costs of medicines and other things involved with The Curmudgeon’s care, who had my hairdresser slip me a gift card.

After I got to my car, I sat there and cried a bit. I’d had a rough morning and an argument with The Curmudgeon. The two kindnesses were a bit overwhelming.

How does one convince a stubborn old man that a move to another locale could be the best thing ever?

He’s lived in the same house for 63 years. I’ve lived with him in it for 42 years and have hated the house from day one. Even after tearing out walls and stuff, the house is still his parent’s house.

The house is just shy of one hundred and fifty years old and it is falling down around our ears a little at a time.

I am tired of paying for repairs that keep us just ahead of disaster. For example, most recently, the front porch we had fixed.

I want central air conditioning. I want a patio or a deck, maybe even a screened in porch. I want to be all on one floor. Him climbing the stairs scares me to death all the time.

I don’t want to go down another flight of stairs into a dank cellar to do my laundry any more.

I would kill to have more than a 40″ by 12″ work space in my kitchen. Get out your tape measure and see exactly how much space that is.

Does he give one shit about any of that? Nope. As long as he has his lounge chair and his big TV cranked to top volume he doesn’t give a damn.

I am one lottery win away from outta here. Unfortunately, that is my only out.

Today’s shirt.