I don't want this blog to be about sickness...again
but Alas, it must, for now.
Or at least (hopefully) only one. more. post.
It is what I write about, I know, quite a bit of the time.
But what do you write about except what you live with?
I contracted some sorta virus.
It's not strep, but it hurts like a muther to swallow. Or talk.
I can barely drink liquids...am drinking scalding hot tea mostly.
Ice water too. And Popsicles.
Wish I was a sword swallower.
Then I could tip my head back and insert that orange Popsicle
straight down to cool the burn in my throat.
Fever, horrific body aches, dizziness.
Today is day 5 of having this virus
Yesterday I developed tiny blisters on my hands.
So...lemme see here.
I cannot eat. I cannot talk very well. My hands burn and itch.
My body temp switches between sweating and freezing.
It almost feels like a message from God. Almost.
If one cannot eat, one cannot keep stuffing in the fattening stuff, can one?
If one cannot talk, one cannot contribute to gossipy conversations or
snap at one's spouse for folding the towels "the wrong way", correct?
If one's hands burn and itch...hmmm....I got nuthin' for this symptom.
If one is too dizzy to drive to the store, one cannot spend money on crap.
Maybe I'm looking too far into this or maybe it's the fever talking.
I must be getting better tho, right?? If I'm able to be pissed at him
for not doing the dishes the way that I do??
Not really pissed, per se....... but I did feel it needed mentioning.
I've not done a thing since Saturday at 10:00 am when this virus hit me.
And it shows in my house.
To me...it shows to me.
On one of my bleary, feverish trips to the bathroom, I saw him
rifling thru the laundry hamper....effectively blocking my entrance
to said bathroom. Whatcha doin'? I croaked
Laundry he replied.
Then why are you digging to the bottom of the hamper? I ask.
I'm looking for my work clothes, so I can do my laundry, he says.
Did ya get that? "My laundry" he said.
He was only washing HIS stuff. HIS STUFF!!!
I didn't at that moment even know how to process that.
It would hit me later.
Today, when I got up, I found one side of the kitchen sink
full of dirty dishes and empty recyclable containers
while the other side of the sink held one clean frying pan.
The counters were sticky, not having been wiped down
(I'm guessing here) since Saturday at 10:00 am???
The house reeked of dog piss and a kitchen garbage can
that hadn't been taken out since...oh never mind.
The cat was rubbing hisself on my legs, trying to get my attention.
I was afraid to see what the litter box looked like.
I was right to be afraid and I apologized to the cat for my being sick.
I found two baskets of clean??? laundry wrinkled beyond redemption.
And about 7 more loads strewn about the house, over chairs, on tables,
from the floor on his side of the bed and from the already overflowing bathroom hamper.
He mentions to me that he has done 5 loads of laundry....
I don't believe him.
I see no evidence of it except for the 2 badly wrinkled baskets
still sitting and wrinkling in the middle of the kitchen floor,
one of which was the load I had left in the dryer on Friday.
So 5 loads? No. You didn't.
The bathroom garbage can is undetectable under a mound of tissues
and assorted whatnot that usually goes into a bathroom receptacle.
The sink....UGH! The sink!! I will not explain.
I will not mention the horror called a commode.
How does a grown man NOT see this filth?
How does he walk past it and not grab this or that to throw it away?
How does he get up in the middle of the night to pee
and not trip over or get his feet tangled up in the tiny mountain
of dirty socks and belts and yesterdays jeans that have been left there?
Does he not see it?? Smell it??
Is he waiting for me to get well to see it?
Does he want me to know that he suffered whilst I was sick?
Is he trying to make me feel like I have job security?
Nobody can clean as good as you, Hon.
I want to write about Jesus-y things.
I want to write about how I see Him throughout my day.
What I perceive to be Him trying to get my attention.
In truth, I see Him everywhere. I hear Him everywhere.
Little signs alert me to His presence. All. Day. Long.
A bird singing, or the wind thru the trees, or in song lyrics that I hear.
In a grandchild's eyes, in a newly bloomed Hollyhock plant.
A strangers smile, thunder & lightening, rain, sunshine.
I don't see Jesus in 7 loads of dirty laundry, a sink of dirty dishes,
Or a bathroom that needs to be replaced...Yes, replaced.
(Let's just get a new one..it'll probably be easier than cleaning this one.)
So maybe that's what He's showing me.
That He can be everywhere, anywhere he chooses to be.
That He can show Himself to me through all of the good in my life
and also through all of the not so good...the illness and the dirt.
Day 5 finds me swallowing just a tad easier.
The fever is gone as are the body aches.
That mountain of laundry remains to be cleaned as does that bathroom....yikes.
Dishes were done (by him!) before he went to work, bless his heart.
Whaddya say Lord? Wanna meet me there? You can pick.
You want to meet me at the laundry mountain or in that defiled bathroom?
Tell ya what....I'll look closely for You in both places.