I am out of routine. There is no doubt about it. This physical set-back is messing with me! I am too nervous to walk, too tired to cook, too drugged to drive (I think), and too brain-dead to learn something new. So what do I do with myself?
“Why don’t you learn about photography some more, Stacey? You have the time and you can learn from some simple YouTube clips?” True enough. I like to take photos – but not all the time. I feel too ADDish to actually stick with a clip long enough to learn something.
The taxes stare me in the face as the receipts and T-4’s pile up. This “could” be the first year that I have them completed on time. Every other year I am so mentally exhausted that I wait until after March Break to tackle them. Math has always challenged me, yet, it seems that somehow the taxes fall into my lap. My husband, Kevin, has tried to get me to go “electronic” with my book-keeping, however, technology is somewhat the same beast as math to me. It’s all by hand, baby!
The grand question now is whether I am more inclined to tap into my physical or my mental strength to “do” something.
The answer wiggled itself into my mind when I went to go and choose which clothes to wear today. That may not seem such a big deal. I’d like to assure you – it is. As much as I’d like to just step back into my old, comfortable wardrobe, I can’t. It would seem that losing 15 pounds has impacted my shape a bit. Not all of that weight is fat – there has to be some accounting for organ weight. The shape is not exactly settled yet either as I’m swollen here and deflated there… it seems I need to settle into my body these days. Still, I opened my drawer this morning hoping something would jump out and scream, “wear me!”. Nothing screamed. My walking jeans, however, presented themselves in almost open defiance. I think.
These very same jeans only several weeks ago were my main “go-to” in the morning and had become a part of my routine. When I came down the stairs in the morning wearing these jeans, even our dog Jazz became excited. The jeans meant – WALK. And walk to Jazz meant thrill of the day.
I dislodged the jeans from their comfortable niche. I unfurled them expecting to be able to “eye-ball it” to determine if they were going to fit me today or not. No such luck. I had to try them on. I took a deep breath in and stuck my first foot through the waistband. Okay, they seemed loose. Next foot through yielded the same results. I promised myself if they fit – even somewhat comfortably, I would go for a short walk today. I pulled them gently “up” not sure whether I ought to be taking this great big step or not. Yes? No? Yes? No? Yes. They fit. Okay, not well, but they fit.
My how I have changed. Where did “I” go? I had become so familiar with my shape that this new one was something with which I would have to negotiate. How long with I remain like this, I wondered? Am I still inflated from surgery? Is this the new me? I zipped up the jeans and lay their zipper on mine. There was enough slack that they were not constraining my belly at all – no irritation – lots of breathing space. Yet, snug enough that I could wear them without cinching a belt to ensure against their untimely departure to my knees when I strode.
So… photography, taxes, or a walk? There is no doubt about it that the answer is all in the jeans – for these jeans were made for walking. That’s just what they’ll do. One of these days these jeans are gonna walk all over … well, you get the picture. The taxes can wait!
Just in case you started humming that tune: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnQcExGaEvk)