For a month, "something came up" over and over. My foster daughter and I have been trying to get together to work on her wedding dress. If she had free time, I didn't. If I had several hours to devote to it, she was working overtime at her job. The last time we scheduled to start cutting fabric, a stronger snowstorm than was predicted made the roads so treacherous, I didn't want her on the highway coming out here. Her wedding is only about six weeks away, and so far all we had done was buy the fabric and pattern. That was all, that is, until tonight. She made it here, and we put in a solid three hours or more of effort. The pattern is completely cut, the pieces ironed, and the primary fabric has been cut. We still need to cut the accent lace, and she hasn't even purchased the lining yet. But we are both sore and tired from all that we did so far. We made adjustments to the pattern to fit her exactly, and we very carefully laid out the soft, satiny fabric on my living room floor. Even though that rug is super thick and soft, sitting on the floor for that long just about did me in, and it just about did the same to that kid who is just over half of my age. There is a reason we budgeted plenty of time to accomplish this project. There is no way our bodies could do this all in one shot.
It's kind of a shame I had to beat myself up this much on this day. I had just come from physical therapy, where my therapist and I both reached the conclusion that I've gotten just about all the good that I can from this particular series. The exercises he gave me have worked wonders on the parts of me that were freezing up. I can raise my left arm a whole lot more smoothly and reliably now than I could a month ago. My back still gives me fits, but it has done that since I was six years old. He was mostly just helping me gain flexibility there. All we did today was put flex in between each vertebrae in my spine, and then I lay on a heating pad with the electro-stim cranked way up. In fact, I had him set it so high, I was still slightly numbed halfway through the drive home. And then I sat on the floor and wrecked the good feelings. I get one more shot with the therapist, before I graduate and he moves to a different clinic. I need to get the best of it.
We finally got the green light to move Mr X's RV (the one that even Cousin Eddie might look at weird) from the repair facility to the storage lot. I'm just so happy that it didn't have to come back here and park on the street once the repairs to the transmission were done. If there was enough room on the side of the house, in a place where we hadn't already planted a bunch of stuff, then I might tolerate it. But it just doesn't fit, and being out on the street wasn't an option. A space in the storage lot came open exactly when we needed it. The timing couldn't have been better.
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