I am recovering, and it's not a good time. Friday was my first day back at work in two weeks, but it was also the first day in two weeks I'd gotten up and been active for more than, say, an hour, and also the first day in two weeks I went without a nap. It was a rough day, and by the end of it I was ready to die. My co-teacher kept asking me if I was okay. I can't really say that I was okay, but I was determined to get through that day, because if I went home from not feeling well it would mean that I was nowhere near okay.
After work on Friday, I went back to my dad's house and had a refreshing bowl of soup and watched TV with my sister, and finally worked up the energy to pack up most of my crap and go home, also for the first time in two weeks.
And being at home again is weird. Everything is how I left it--non-rinsed dishes piled up in sink, food getting down to rations, junk accumulating in piles in various places... Sigh. So now I'm alone all the time again, to make my own food and my own fun, nudging my computer around hopefully on my fake ottoman in hopes of catching the Internet signal. It is, as I said, weird, and I seem to get bored a lot.
Then there was Saturday. I didn't sleep well Friday night, and had a doctor's appointment Saturday morning which I had to wake up at 8:30 for. Zombie-like, I dragged through breakfast and getting dressed and then set out for the day, only to realize once I'd left that I'd left my rent-paying-forms at home. I went to the doctor (the UC doctor) and was amused by his fussing over me and my flumonia. He listened to my lungs and told me brightly that I would feel better soon. It was kind of hilarious.
Then to my dad's house, where he (my dad) said that he hadn't even eaten breakfast yet. I sighed, and went to get my laundry, but it was too heavy, so, frustrated and disappointed, I left about half of it at my dad’s house and took the rest home to drop off while I got my rent forms. (I am very frustrated by my lack of strength. Pissed, even.) Then to the bank to pay my rent, and a brief stop at my mom’s house, and then back to my dad's house.
From there, to the hospital, for my follow-up chest x-ray. The hospital said they had no fax regarding an x-ray. My dad called the doctor and got it faxed again, and then I got my x-ray. (It took much longer than last week's x-ray. I waited around a lot.)
By the time we got back to my dad's house, I was exhausted, but some soup (my dad made homemade chicken noodle soup for dinner a few nights ago, and it was DELICIOUS. The flavor was a smidge too salty, but otherwise perfect, and I think I had at least three bowls of it) gave me energy.
And then we went to Lowe's. My dad is planning to redo his kitchen (I was a little startled to hear this, and then he went on for a while about how he has no intention of selling his house and moving to Florida like some old person once he's retired; he intends to stay in this house and he A) wants it to look nice for when he retires and B) wants to work on it while he has a decent cash flow.) and he wants the opinions of my sister and I. I don't know how long we were at Lowe's, but it really took a big chunk out of my regained energy. I was already a bit worn out from what felt like running all over Campbell (and part of Kenton) County in the morning, and looking at refrigerators and cabinetry for another hour or two helped nothing.
And then I went home and watched TV for the rest of the day.
The main thing about my recovering is that I'm tired. A lot. I have not been taking any naps because I am afraid they will mess me up (I don't want to go back to work tomorrow with my body expecting a nap promptly at 3 PM), but I sure could use one. I'm watching (well, listening to) a lot of TV and poking around with various projects: crochet, AEFB research, house chores, a little reading.
The books I am reading are not engaging. That doesn't mean they aren't good, it just means that I don't feel like reading them most of the time. My work book is
The Lies of Locke Lamora, by Scott Lynch, which has gotten good reviews and which I enjoy (just, again, it's not the kind of book where I'm like, "Ah, I can't wait to get back to reading that!", and also it's seven hundred pages long which makes me groan which I think means I've been reading young adult books for too long).
The other book is Diana Gabaldon's
A Breath of Snow and Ashes, which I have had since 2005 and have not cracked due to A) it is a thousand pages long, literally, and B) the last time I read one of her Outlander books (discounting the Lord John books, which I enjoy), it nearly killed me. (It was
The Fiery Cross.) I got the audio version of ABOSAA as well (well...the first twenty-four discs...) so I can make more progress by listening to it in the car on the way to work. And, in theory, around the house while doing chores, but I still have a lot of podcasts to get through.
A Breath of Snow and Ashes. Diana Gabaldon. Sigh. I like her writing, generally (the way she favors Jamie gets on my nerves eventually--does anyone in the series not worship him?), and I definitely admire the depth of research she's put into her work, but I just keep thinking, "Really, is all of this necessary?" I'm a hundred pages into the book (admittedly, a mere tenth of the novel) and I'm not sure what the plot is, or even the plot thread. I know that eventually it'll get into the American Revolution, and I'm seeing a few touches and threads of that, but mostly I see eighteenth century farmish domesticity. And while it's well written, it's not a story, it's a state of being.
Reading this book has also brought back memories of how I grew to feel for the characters while reading
The Fiery Cross (and possibly
Drums of Autumn, which I loved). I like Claire well enough, and always have, but, as I said, sometimes Jamie gets on my nerves. Brianna is definitely a toss-up for me; at best, I find her tolerable and non-offensive. I just hate her attitude; at her worst, she's the epitome of badly written redheads, all bossy and snitty. I love Roger without fail, but I can't quite forgive Jamie for his initial treatment of Roger, nor Gabaldon herself for doing that to Roger. (Just because it's good character development, but it basically crippled Roger, taking away something he valued and something that others could value in him in the eighteenth century. That's good character development, but what pisses me off is that
nothing like this would EVER happen to Jamie. And I think it should sometime.) I loathe Stephen Bonnet instinctively. I like Ian. Most of the other characters (and there are a LOT of them) I am pretty blasé about.
So. Watching TV. Sometimes working on other things. Novel research is massive and time-consuming. I finally found my dad's copy of
The Foxfire Book (and
Foxfire 2 and
Foxfire 3) and I think it is one of the coolest books to ever exist. I only wish there were chapters on clothing! Then I looked them up and discovered that they are up to
Foxfire 12 now and one of the intervening nine books surely has something about clothing in it.
That’s my life. Being lazy and frustrated and bored and being too tired to do much of anything about it. I know it will get better (especially after a few days at work), but in the meantime, it leaves me feeling irritated and sorry for myself.