Yes, I do. I remember doing a bunch of writing in November and then I stopped because I was moving and that was such a long and painful process, like moving always is, but it was totally worth it because we are in a place that we love and is perfect for us for now. For at least the first month I would wake up happy and then ask myself why I was so happy and remember, “Oh yes! I live here now!”
I’m sick. Whenever I get sick I always say, I don’t know why I’m sick, I never get sick. I tell anyone that will listen. This is so weird, I never get sick.
It’s not completely true that I never get sick but I get sick so rarely that I can’t ever remember the last time I was sick. Sometimes I go years without even a sniffle. This is a big deal because my health has been so poor my entire life that I was always sick. Always.
And by always I mean every other week. Literally. I remember arguing with doctors to write me prescriptions for strep because every time I had a sore throat (several times a year) it was strep and they would say it probably wasn’t but they would write a prescription and the next day I wouldn’t feel like I was going to die anymore and then a week later they would get their little test back and call me to tell me I had strep but I already knew that and I was better by then anyway. (Such a relevant test.) Until a week later when I had something new.
But I didn’t actually take antibiotics very often because I was usually too sick to get myself to the doctor and I always thought taking antibiotics was a bad idea anyway. My mother never took us to the doctor when I was growing up and then when I was probably 23 a friend of mine told me that it was better to let your body learn to fight these things off itself and I believed him so I just tried to suffer through stuff as much as possible. But my body never learned to fight things off itself. I had to change my diet and change my life and learn all my witch doctoring stuff and now I never get sick. Except when I do and then I wake up at two in the morning and apparently losing my voice inspires me to write because the words have to come out at a certain rate. Voice or no voice.
Two years ago I wanted to start getting more stuff done so I made a new schedule. I was going to get up at four in the morning to do my reading and my writing and my stretches before the children got up and then we would do our practicing and our studies and go for our walk and get everything done that we could possibly want to get done before dinner and bed. There was just one little problem and that was that I had spent the previous two years in bed from my debilitating illness and not only was I still not capable of getting up at four in the morning but I was going to bed at nine and sleeping till seven and then taking a nap every afternoon to try not to be so exhausted all the time.
But it was a good idea and I’ve made a lot of progress so I’ll get there one of these days. It’s like the time I gave myself a year to be able to do one pull-up and it took me two years but I finally did it. It seemed like a long time but looking back, what’s an extra year or two or ten when you’re talking about achieving something you really want? No biggie.
And now it’s almost four in the morning and I’m already done with my writing so I’m way ahead of schedule. I wonder if anyone would mind if I got started on my fiddle practicing.