Looking back over this week I feel like it must have been a month or more. My level of exhaustion and emotional freak-out has been at an all-time high. Let’s take a look at this week by the numbers.
10: Days I had to wait between a routine dentist appointment and an appointment with an oral surgeon because the dentist found a lesion on my tongue that he wanted biopsied.
9: Documents over 30 pages I’ve done so far this week, which means more money but also a state of total wipe-out for my brain and eyes.
8: Puppies that make me cry with happiness and mourn the fact that they are not in my living room, making their little grunty noises.
7: Days this week I have gone to bed after 4 AM and gotten up before 10 AM.
6: Days the older girls are gone, up in Maine with their grandparents. They’re having a great time, but no older kids means my two ‘right hands” are gone. Baby care is constant.
5: Minutes it took for the oral surgeon to say “Oh, that’s nothing,” sending me into what must have seemed to him to be a mysterious state of weepy nervous collapse.
also 5: The number of Zithromax pills prescribed by my doctor because it turns out I’ve had walking pneumonia for about six weeks.
4: The family vote “for” (with 1 “against” and one abstaining due to drooling) letting Bronte stay with Kate after our lease term is up. This has been an obvious choice for weeks, honestly, but we’ve struggled hard because we love Bronte so much. I’ve rehomed plenty of adult dogs, but it’s always been because they were so obviously not the right fit for our family. This time it’s a dog we adore and get along with beautifully, who we never imagined letting go. But seeing the way Bronte lights up every picture taken of her because she is so plainly overwhelmed with glee to be at Kate’s place and hanging out with Kate… well, this was a choice for her, not for us. There are still details to be ironed out and we’ll be talking much more over the next months, but barring some major complication Bronte gets to live with the people and dogs she has chosen.
3: Piles of poop left for me this morning. One was so unimaginably rank that Doug wondered aloud if Ginny had eaten a demon.
2: Weeks left until the VERY EARLIEST POSSIBLE date for a final construction number on the House of Fire. That number is the key to getting started, though even once we get the number we have to wait for the check, then send the check to our mortgage company, then the mortgage company releases it in dribs and drabs to our contractor. I hesitate to say that this is the light at the end of the tunnel, but at least someone is talking about “next month” instead of “well, just be patient.”
1: Cardigan head, heavy on my foot, and every once in a while she coughs in her sleep because she’s got her throat pressed so hard against me. But somehow, in that magical little dog brain of hers, the pleasure of having her lovely head on my stinky foot is so great that she just coughs and closes her eyes again. And that, in one action, is why there is nothing better and more wonderful than this.