My Surreality

Today is the third day of the rest of my life. Each day has been a little less real than the day before, so it would be a good idea to start setting up some kind of schedule.  Schedules are critical for handicapped brains. 

The cleaning plan went well again yesterday. Thanks, Sarah!  You see, Sarah cleaned while I wandered in a fog.  OK, I shampooed the front room carpet before losing focus, so I wasn't a complete waste of skin.

(Insert Twilight Zone music here.) My dreams have been as crazy as my thoughts during the day.  You know how some dreams are disjointed with everything out of time and place?

It's hard not to think of reports that are due, how will they know how to retrieve this or that information, and all the other things I'm accustomed to thinking about every day.  I give myself a shake, and I'm good with it. 

Do you know how many people in the world have suffered losses that make the loss of this job look like nothing?  There are more than a few.  The kindest thing to do is to move on and not make everyone around me cut their feet walking on eggshells.  Git 'er done!

(Shake, shake, shake)

Well, that feels better.  I've had my coffee and my shower, my morning computer and whine. I'll make a list of what I have to accomplish today, then I'm going to play.

Oooh! I could take some pictures!  I could go to Sister's or Sister's, or perhaps even both! Each. One at a time. I could play with picture editing, find more old pictures to scan, or organize the ones I already have.  I could knit or cross-stitch. I could hem Mom's dish towels. 

Hell! The world is my oyster!