The Murray fairy has visited three times so far this weekend. While the Mr is on his rally adventure, we asked our neighbor to help me out with Murray, since I can't manhandle him in and out of wheels and I really shouldn't be handling the messy, bacteria-laden boy anyway. I have no trouble feeding the dogs, but lifting and maneuvering is beyond me. I sort of expected T to come through the house to take care of him, say hello on the way through, but he hasn't. He comes through the back gate when I'm not paying attention. I peek out in the garage when I'm getting ready for bed, and Murray's calmly sitting on his bed, looking at me like he got there himself. This morning, I woke ridiculously early, and played on the computer for an hour before putting the dogs out and feeding everyone at 0630. A couple of hours later, I looked outside, and there was Murray, strutting around the backyard in his wheels. Magic.
I should be packing my bag. I should be cleaning the last areas that I didn't panic-clean on Thursday before our old friend arrived on short notice. I didn't do either of those things (other than clean the dishes as I went along today). Mid-morning I started feeling terrible, and lay down for an hour-long nap. I felt better after that, for a little while, but by mid-afternoon, I was at it again. When was the last time I needed this much sleep? I can't say why. Relief that the wait is almost over? Shutting down because it's overwhelming? Or just a result of aggregated sleep deprivation? Dunno. I'm just glad I had the flexibility to get caught up this weekend.
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