Finishing the bottle.

Last night I thought it would be a splendid idea to drink a whole bottle of wine. I was in the mode after weeding and gardening with L Rocks over a marg. I mean, what could be better? Homemade margs courtesy of Jenny and some pretty flowers to plant supplied by L Rocks. It was picture (and pitcher) perfect. But then that joy spilled right on over into a glass of wine and kept on giving. So when I heard from Purse Girl at around 8 or 9 —because I’d texted asking her if she was breaking up with me— I poured the rest of the bottle into my glass and walked over to Liz’s. Fine as wine.

This morning, not so much. For one thing, I looked like I’d been punched in the face (yes, crying was involved in the over-indulgence). For another, I had the required headache. I looked at the bottle of the hubby’s Ibuprofen. Picked it up. Opened it. Noticed there were only two left. Took ‘em anyway. Screw the cancer patient. I had a hang over. Care Giver of the Year (CGOTY) returns. And another empty bottle with my name on it. Yo.

The return to home has been relatively uneventful (give or take some crying jags and wine fest 2010). The hubby has been sleeping a lot. Has no pain. And just some discomfort after he eats. It’s amazing really.

The hardest thing is that he’s napping a lot and our bedroom is really dark. So every time I need to go in there I trip over something. Like the dog. And I wake him up because I’ve managed to catapult myself into the bedside table. Or I’ve overshot the doorway and run smack into the elliptical machine. And every morning, without fail, he says, “Where’d you get that big bruise?!” I wonder.

It’s funny that even though we’re mostly just hanging around, I can’t ever seem to get anything done. I spent yesterday morning doing house stuff like organizing and cleaning and litter box emptying and laundry —so I guess that counts. But it seems like every time I try to do a work thing or get to my blog writing, I can’t focus long enough to finish anything. Or I wake up planning to return one particular phone call or get to the book keeper and the day ends without me ever doing it. It’s like walking around in a fog (even without the added wine joy sauce the night before). But I guess I can say I completed that bottle of wine and the Advil, right? (That should count for something.)

One thing we did do yesterday was finally get through all of the short term disability paperwork. It’s crazy. Here you are dealing with this major illness and you’re supposed to keep track of all of this paperwork with tight deadlines. COMPLETE THIS FORM AND RETURN IT WITHIN 24 HOURS OR YOUR MEDICAL BENEFITS WILL BE TERMINATED. Small details like that.

I’m glad I’m organized or we’d be dead in the water.

The girls took the news of daddy having cancer pretty well. Bean suggested that he cough and spit it out. Miss-miss asked a couple of questions and then said, “Oh. And mom? See that bike trail we just drove past? I went up the hill in 2nd gear.” Huh.

The gordita/tacos from Comida helped kick the mommy hangover today. And I mentioned to Rayme that we may be calling them to cater the post-chemo ass party. But the well-intentioned nap never materialized.

The best thing of today was watching the hubby laugh so hard he cried (when I told him I’d taken his last two Ibuprofen). It’s been a while.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Sunshowers. MIA. Beat heart beat. He's made it to the Newsweek. Sweetheart seen it. He's doing it for the peeps. peace.