Today's the day I'm sure of it.
Today's the day I'll get the dishwasher completely unloaded (i had given it a good attempt and only got the top half done), and those stinky dirty dishes loaded up to hear the cleansing swish, swish of the motor.
The flu is leaving.
Right now I'm having my usual breakfast routine. It's a start. I couldn't remember what I do first in my routine, which is in part because I still struggle with an Acquired Brain Injury's memory deficit, but the other part is because I haven't had my routine for 4 days, which trips up that injured brain.
Routine is my friend. OCD is a good thing when you need normalcy in a world of brain injury.
I got it done though, and damn this is tasting good.
I got it done right after the nightmares that woke me of being stuck in a wheelchair again. The feeling that I couldn't walk down stairs (i had to 'bum-toe' it, inching like a crab), making an appearance in a familiar reoccurring dream of the school I go to in that artificial realm.
I cried, "But I've been going to this school forever! If I went to those classes before then there HAS to be an elevator, otherwise how did I get to my class before?!"
I guess the brain injury in my dream also forgot that I would normally visit this school on two legs, not four wheels.
Papi has had to deal with a lot in terms of my accident and my brain injury. Sometimes it frustrates my love more than it frustrates me.
it doesn't frustrate me half as much as that bastard cat meandering through the dirty dishes on the counter right now, however.
"get the fuck off there you mangy vermon!!!"
that will last for 5 minutes. don't know why i bother. he's trained me very well to keep those counters clean.
Yesterday, Papi was wandering around the house talking about the rain, "Look at that miserable rain I have to work in."
I thought to myself, "what are you worried about? you don't have to work in it today. relax! you're sick. it might not even be raining on your work day."
Then my love spoke about the uniform that is covered in our one-eyed golden retriever's hair, because it's been sitting on the floor due to the fact that we have no furniture to put it in.
Thank you sewage flood.
I said to myself, "mental note. clean papi's uniform so that when it's time for my love to go back to work it will be nice."
Then mi esposo said, "O god, I've gotta leave in 20 minutes and I feel like crap."
I asked, "But, where are you going?!"
Papi looked at me with that look I've seen periodically for over two years now. The look of, 'really?!? You don't remember?!?'
I shriveled in my chair and bit my lip with my forehead creasing a little deeper than it had been a moment ago.
Brain injury has struck again.
"I'm going to work. Didn't you get it when I was complaining about the rain and my uniform, not to mention I told you this morning?"
O geez. Now that I think about it, I do sorta remember something like that being said a few days ago, but this morning?
Brain injury. It's kinda like a party trick, except I'm the only one who gets duped.
I think I just might be stuck like this, but I'm functioning. I'm just a little more like the blonde that people joke about, and that just sucks. I've spent a good portion of my life doing my best to prove those blonde jokes wrong.
Oh, Acquired Brain Injury, you are truly not my friend, but I've got to learn to work with you.
Just another lesson to learn in this science experiment of life.