I’d say life is being a jerk but this is probably all my fault. I’ve been going at it hard for a few weeks now, pretending to be super woman getting everything done in style and with grace. Kicking some anti-feminist ass while onlookers gasp with “wow you’re so handy for a girl!” Well thank you Mr. Joe Contractor, though if you really knew my hands condition… that wouldn’t be the phrase you’d use… ever.
Its safe to say that to get through this weekend an Princess’s birthday party it’s going to take all the resolve I got left, a good faith that all the meds will continue to work their best and some miracle from mother nature to help me hold on to my ability to function for another erm… about 37 hours. FINGERS CROSSED!!!
Unfortunately all the tell tale signs of a flare are starting up. The obvious worsening pain in places that are not even over used and the setting in of fatigue from the first second my eyes wake in the morning yet complete inability to sleep at night. Also the mild fever and vague flu like (dizziness, blank brain, tension headaches) symptoms that I’ve come to realize are usually the start of something bad. My IBS has also been much more sever lately, but that’s most definitely my fault. A new probiotic that doesn’t seem to do shit and with how busy I’ve been I haven’t been eating like a champ. Well actually I have…. but too much raw veggies for someone with my gut is a HUGE NONO!
All in all though, most of my work is pretty well done. Now it’s just time to find my inner dictator and command my little troop into getting the place into ship shape and adding the finishing touches. All I gotta do is whip up a batch of strawberry cake and slather it with icing.
Mr. Mango has been less then helpful this last week, mostly complaining about how hard doing shit is. Like the fact that shoveling gravel, cleaning eaves or doing some mathematical planning is supposed to be a walk in the park. I’d like to say Karma hit him hard yesterday when after futzing around the yard for hours to trim the grass he got some sun/heat stroke and had to spend the rest of the day sick, exhausted and not able to do much. A little taste of what I have to push through to get things done when the “man stuff” gets too HARD for him.
Now I could blame him for my hands even worse condition. Spending a few hours last night cleaning floors and doing laundry after my fingers and wrists were already far past the danger zone. But I won’t. I could have taken the evening off too and said “fuck it” to having a spotless home. He doesn’t need to know that though, I’m pissed enough at him for a variety of other reasons, he can assume that his bad ‘stroke’ of luck is part of it too. He feels guilty, and that’s right where I need him. Ready to bust ass, and get the rest of the physical labor done, and I’m angry enough I don’t mind being a bit of a slave driver to push him there.
Wish me luck! Worst case scenario, I vent to my MIL when she gets here, and she takes over. She has years more of practice getting him to bend to her will and get his ass moving. I definitely could use the help!