I Had One Job

Inspirational song: Dog and Butterfly (Heart)

I admit to a lifelong battle with FOMO (fear of missing out). It's probably why I have gone to great lengths to say yes, to volunteer, and to go to events or outings when I really wasn't up to it or couldn't afford it, either in terms of income or energy. I had a scrimmage against FOMO this morning. It was a crummy, cloudy, damp day (so what I call "good weather" with zero irony), but after asking a friend for a weather report, Mr Smith-Park decided to head up to his mountain to make more progress on the shed/cabin. As soon as he started loading his truck, the dogs knew. They knew. As they got excited and the man got cheery about his goals for the day, I got jealous. I wanted to go. I didn't want to stay home and miss out. I made eye contact with Bumpy as he watched through the back door, waiting for the signal to load up in the truck, and I wanted to play too. I thought, if nothing else, I could just walk up with the dogs, like I did a couple of weeks ago, and let the man do his multiple trips carrying lumber by himself. The man gave me a skeptical look, and he issued a directive. He told me that my job was to stay home and heal from the infection in my kidney/urinary tract. At the time, I was still sitting in my bathrobe, working on my first cup of coffee. He waved in my general direction and said, "I'll even go out on a limb and suggest when I get back, you'll look just like this." Well, I showed him. Not only did I manage to shower and put on clothes (!!), I actually fed myself real food by two o'clock this afternoon! When I sent a text as proof, he offered me a medal for my fabulous adult behavior. Do you think he meant it?

I had high hopes of cleaning my dressing room today. I have piles of laundry waiting to hang up, and my day bed has so much junk on it, the cats can barely find good places to nap. Instead, I spent most of the day sitting against pillows, watching the TV in my room. I broke down and put the TV in here knowing that days like this were more likely to happen now. Good news was after a few antibiotics, it didn't hurt all that bad to let my back touch pillows. So I have that going for me too.

The concrete is poured on the hill. The floor of the tiny cabin may yet be built, before the real snows come. There was already a snowfall, and I was shown remnants of frozen stuff on the tepee tarp. I'll probably be able to go up there once more to help with the construction, so I feel accomplished, and beat the FOMO blues. It's hard seeing pictures of everyone having fun up there without me. Even Murray, gazing pensively across the aspen meadow, made me feel wistful and jealous.