Pacing is good, but it isn’t enough every time. The schedule didn’t seem so full, from a distance. I thought all I needed to do was tidy the house before the smaller game group, and then hang out in my basement in pajamas for a few hours. Not how it all fell out today.
I did enough cleaning to feel good about myself. I managed that, at least. Bedroom is in great shape, kitchen partway there, living room started. I rested along the way, and was only about an hour past time to eat before I got around to it. (I started getting shaky and clumsy and covered the stovetop in a formerly perfectly cooked egg.) Then all the plans changed. I was reminded that there was a social downtown, and I was expected to attend. I had planned on not making dinner for the crew tonight, and right after I waved off, my foster daughter picked up the standard and kept charging forward. She provided a hearty dinner. I just had to wait for it. So when I went to the social, and had a single margarita, my belly was completely empty. It took a little longer than normal to be able to drive home. It meant having a better time chatting with the rotarians, but it made me pressed for time on the back end.
The game was next door, which we hadn’t done in a while. But it was snowy, and T said it sure would be nice if he didn’t have to leave his dogs locked up in the bedroom for hours while we played. On warm nights, they can stay out in the yard late. On a night like this, they needed the freedom to wrestle all over the house, and show off for company how well they can rip the stuffing out of their newest toys. I like being over there, but it’s a less controlled environment for me to be in while I eat. It’s always a crap shoot. (Sorry about the double entendre.) Between the booze, the food, the environment, and the end of a long day, I wore the heck out. I was so glad when we reached a stopping point at quarter of ten. My body and mind were tired, but my tummy had an hour of yelling at me to do (so far). (Might have been the combination of tequila and mead.) I see the rheumatologist tomorrow, so maybe it’s a good thing I feel awful tonight, so I am reminded of the things I need to cover with her.
Now, I have to convince myself to get back out of bed to figure out where I left my phone. I have a couple of pictures to upload, including the evidence that I ran a test color through my hair. It’s just a colored hairspray, but it was bright pink, and it was so right it made the super short hair look like I had cut it that way on purpose. I might actually get a permanent hair color this week, and do it for real. As it was, I already washed it back out. We shall see whether I get inspired to go back to the beauty supply shop.
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