On the 20th, I am having a Solstice party. This was planned weeks before my brother died. I don't want to take it back, I want to go on, I just am not feeling it.
I got all the bows and beads and poinsettias up in the kitchen. I got the holly garlands up downstairs, but they are breaking. The plastic must be brittle. All the lights are in the windows and I have hung my stockings and put up the garlands in teh front room. Did a lot of good cleaning, but I had to climb on and off chairs to reach the high places. My foot hurt like hell.
I'd been to the doctor, the x-rays show nothing wrong, there is no swelling or bruising. I did not see my regular PCM, this was a civilian filling in. Oh, I could take celebrex ... wait a minute, I already am. Stay off the foot and wear stiff-soled shoes. If it still hurts in a few weeks, I might be able to see a foot doctor. Right. In the meantime, I am in a great deal of pain if I try to get anything accomplished.
The kitchen table is cleared off and decked out with my beautiful linens, I brought up Mom's roombox and filled it with Christmas miniatures. Larry's medieval silver pieces are in my curio cabinet now. I got the tree up, and the red wooden beads and the silver beads and the topper and skirts on it. I have the ornaments out, but I don't feel like unwrapping each one. Why bother? It won't make me happy. But I know better, and I will get it done. What was a joy feels like a chore.
I have to get the living room downstairs clean and clear, bake cookies and breads and cakes and pies, get art supplies for the suns, tidy the guest room, vacuum, haul out all my serving dishes. Seeing all my friends will bring me a lot of tears and smiles.
The cards are sitting, waiting for me to lift a pen. I do not want to do them. Maybe I can wait?
I will get back to normal, I do bounce back. I just hate the sad times in between.