Overload—Where’s
the Off Switch?
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
It’s my own fault, of course. I’ve
hit the wall. Can’t go any further. A day of rest would do wonders. Two days might
put me back to myself.
If I’m not myself, who am I? I feel
like a brainless blob. A wart on a toad. A knot on a log.
For one thing, Jim and Crin and I
have been having too much fun. Since both of them are here for only a few
weeks, we try to cram the time with explorations and adventures, fun along with
our designated projects.
Jim alternated building a fountain,
think babbling brook running over rocks, against a hillside for Bonnie with
getting my therapy tub up and running. We had to wait for a heating element to
arrive from the States. The element arrived four days early rather than my
guess of three weeks late. I lost the bet.
Got the hot-tub working. Hooray! I
had an afternoon soak as well as an evening soak. Ah, wonderful world.
Jim came over late in the evening, climbed in the water, hit
the button to turn on the light and the whole caboodle up and died. Back to square one. Jim, however, left
Monday, without time to figure out where the short originated.
This was harder on Jim than on me.
Man-ego stuff, you know. I can wait. He had an expensive five minute soak. I
had at least an hour. I’m neither comparing nor complaining. Jim took drawings,
pictures, schematics back with him and is determined to return in the fall with
parts plus knowledge of the inner workings of hydro-tubs.
Crin brought small quilting projects
with her for us to sew together. We set up our machines in Crin’s casita and
enjoyed hours stitching, talking and working with beautiful colors complimented
by coffee and pastries. We didn’t finish our quilts so put aside the project
for fall when she returns. She left this morning.
In the last several days we seem to
have gone into social panic. We’ve been to Tonola, made a day trip to Tequila
where we were fortunate to see the dancers fly from the pole set up in the
plaza, twice. We’ve been to San Marcos, to Ahualulco, to Oconahua to see the
dig at the ruins there, to the Mirador which is an incredible lookout on the
mountain above our town, complete with a beautiful shrine, to Guamuchil, a
nearby waterpark.
Every trip requires a meal, of course. And to this largess,
we’ve added several trips into Etzatlan specifically to eat in places special
to us.
As if enough isn’t happening, I decided to re-varnish my
twenty boxes which stack into shelves for books and art objects, a never-ending
project. Each box is made of heavy local pine from our region.
One good clean deserves another. All the books must be wiped
down and the art objects and keepsakes washed. Have you any notion how filthy
simple woven baskets can get? Windows behind the shelves must be cleaned; let’s
do it while the shelves are down. Oh, and the cupboard between the two sets of
boxes; ten stack on each side. Clean and re-arrange all the contents. Of
course, this leads me to deep clean of the rest of the house, why not?
I’d be fine with all the activity, love it, in fact, if I
hadn’t done some sort of twisty-hurty to my hip. Felt like it slid out of the
socket and back in again. I know that’s not possible. But I felt huge pain. And
Fear. Yes, with capital “F”.
Did I stop activity for a few days to heal? Of course not.
It’s not my way. Push on, woman, there is too much to do. Too much I want to
do. Ha—there’s the kicker. Want.
Pain is a marvelous teacher. It pays no attention to my
whining. In my life, because of past physical damage, pain tends to partner
with fear. Together, they slammed on the brakes. I’m not at a stop—yet. But I’m
moving in slow motion, searching the mental/physical/emotional “wall” for that
elusive off switch.
Sondra Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
June 28,
2018
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment