“That’s a terrible book,” I said, and flung it into the middle of the room. “It twisted at the last page and ended terribly. Stories aren’t supposed to do that. There aren’t any good books to read. There aren’t any good blogs either. Ugh. Except…”
“You’re going stir-crazy,” my house-mate said. “I would be too. What can I do to help your boredom?”
I got up and sat in the kitchen while she worked and I could focus on something else. It was 11 days post-op and yesterday was pretty much the worst day.
But it’s true. This week I unsubscribed from a bunch of blogs just because I was sick of reading about Jesus Feminists and waaaaay too much TMI and cheesy “I’m so glad you’re here with me in this space–I like you already!”
Then I slept a long good night and in the morning I felt better and could stand up straight which usually helps one’s outlook considerably. Then I found out that my dad’s mom died during our night, in the evening of her 88th birthday. Going to the funeral isn’t an option, and so the Atlantic feels tons wider right now than it usually does.
This isn’t a Complaining Song. It’s just what happened to me in the last 24 hrs. There’s deep, real peace and joy under all the surface stuff, and that’s a gift. There are friends who call and visit, flickering candles, A Christmas Carol to listen to. And a ticket to Ireland on Thursday!
However, the quest continues for interesting, decent, not-too-deep books and invigorating blogs. Right now the only ones I really enjoy are Journey Mama (who knows the voice of a pepto bismal frog?) and Confessions (who is a friend, and more than a brilliant blogger). Any suggestions for a house-bound girl?