My orthopedic walking boot. I’m clumsy, have lost my sense of balance, and with every step I feel like I’m 8 months pregnant. It’s exhausting.
The last month of braces, I hope. I have to wear elastics all the time to fine tune my bite. Once the braces are gone, it’s still not over! I’ll get a long-term retainer for my bottom teeth that I’ll need to wear constantly until we can afford my molar implant$$$$$$$. And that might be never – implants are that expensive.
There’s more! I’ll get these last few gripes off my chest and maybe, just maybe that will keep me from wallowing in self-pity all weekend, which I do with such regularity I should just add it to our calendar.
I’m behind with National Novel Writing Month. I’m not feeling the story very much. A friend suggested that skipping a year wouldn’t be a crime, but I feel like it would be some kind of writing misdemeanor for me. I’ve done it too many years now to use “not into it” as a reason to quit. The Nano website has a statistics feature that tells authors when they will finish their novel if they continue at their current pace. At the rate I’m going I will finish on Dec. 12, turning the project into NaNoDeWriMo, which has a fun ring to it, but is not what I want to do!
Last night, when folding up one of our old wooden tray tables, I made sure to be very careful not to pinch my finger. Didn’t work. I pinched it hard – so hard that I was afraid to look it for a minute. I think it will be fine, but it hurts a lot.
I miss Ghost Ranch and all its space and serenity. A lot.
I’ll end the whining for now, but I warn you, the weekend is young.