I'm functioning, but I am d-r-a-g-g-i-n-g. I made myself get ready and leave home to do a few errands first thing this morning. I knew it would be the high energy point of my day so got out and going before I could talk myself out of it.
Went up to the farm to resupply us with fresh, raw milk products. Stopped at the co-op to pick up a special order. Then to the post office and dropped some books off at the library.
As I was driving home with the windows down, I thought, "What a beautiful day! I think I feel pretty good."
Stopped at our mailbox on the highway to get our mail. By the time I got in to the house, I was feeling crummy again. (It must have been the supreme effort of getting out of the car, opening the mailbox and carrying the two pieces of junk mail back to the car.)
I asked Papa Pea to help me carry my load in. (That would be the things in the car I had collected on my journey; not me personally.)
Put things away and went out to help hubby finish picking blueberries. I then checked the shell peas and discovered they had to be picked. So while Papa Pea harvested raspberries (our biggest haul of the season), I picked peas.
Inside then to shell and process peas, sort and clean berries and get them in the freezer saving out enough for us to eat fresh.
Have had a real taste for potato salad (nuthin' wrong with my appetite) so furtively made my way out to the potato patch (hoping Papa Pea wouldn't see me) and dug two pounds of nice sized spuds. Made the potato salad to have with dinner tonight.
My throat isn't sore so much anymore as it just feels closed up, swollen. Had a hard time sleeping last night because I kept snortling, chortling and almost gagging because of lack of air. Papa Pea and I played a rotating game of one on the couch, one in bed . . . okay, now switch for a while to see if I could sleep better in a different spot.
It's so hard to lay low this time of year. One person cannot do it all so I feel I have to do what I can even though I have very little energy.
After dinner, dear hubby did the dishes on the condition I would stretch out on the couch with a book. (Well, okay. If you INSIST.)
Shortly after I did so, dear daughter stopped in to pick up Tucker. She came into the living room wiping sweat from her face. She stopped dead in her tracks and said, "Mom, you're lying under a quilt and you have a polar fleece jacket on."
"Yes," I replied, "and I'm still cold."
After she left I almost immediately fell asleep and didn't wake until 8 p.m. I don't even remember putting my book down.
Now I'm ready to put my jammies on and sack out for the night. Wonder if I should start in bed or on the couch?
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