After two blissful weeks away from home, work, technology and the cares of Real Life, I launched back into my regularly scheduled program last week by working an extra day’s worth of overtime, spending an entire day cleaning my home and generally just being Crazy Busy.
Getting all of this done is leaving me with a fabulous sense of accomplishment, but is also leaving me in a position of Rode Hard and Put Away Wet.**1
Vacation posture included:
• The naptime sprawl-across-the-bed
• The lounge-time sprawl-across-the-lawnchair
• The social time lean-against-the-bar
• Lots and lots (and lots, and lots) of walking
Work day posture includes:
• The morning sit-at-the-computer
• The noontime sit-at-the-computer
• The afternoon sit-at-the-computer
• The evening race-around-the-kitchen-to-make-dinner
• The post-evening crash-haphazardly-on-the-couch
These postures are very, very different.
Which means that my body is reacting very, very differently to the stresses imposed by The Real World.
While on vacation, I was the epitome of Zen. I was relaxed, I was chill, and I was Loose as a Goose.**2
While in the Real World, I’ve got some stress.
Mortgage payments need to be made.
Home needs to be cleaned.
Social gatherings need to be arranged.
Family time needs to be scheduled.
Work needs to be accomplished.
It’s all weighing heavily on my mind…
Which, in turn, leads to it weighing heavily on my shoulders.
And neck.
And the other little muscles that react when I’m not feeling totally on-par with the issues of real life.
(I told you that story, to tell you this story…)
Because I’m the luckiest girl in the history of the universe, I have an amazing Boyfriend who seeks to take care of me when I’m being pathetic and have Serious Ouch.
So, last evening, Boyfriend of Amazingness noted my compulsive hand-to-neck action. I was reaching up, grabbing tightly, sighing deeply and going back to business.
After deciding that I had been pathetic long enough, he offered to try to take care of the angry knots that were reducing me to a pile of whiny Sunny-Rubble.
It was as he was working on a particularly angry knot that had hindered the free-flow of oxygen through my lungs that my eyes rolled back in my head and I said “OH MY GOD. This is the best day of my life.”
This is all hearsay, I must admit – I wasn’t in complete control of my faculties, and plead guilty of a moderate case of Oral Diarrhea.
Nonetheless, he said he heard me say it.
Which led to a conversation this morning about what we really thought the best days of our life were.
Some of the contenders were obvious:
• The day we signed the papers for our house and it became ours
• The day we met
• The day we said “I Love You”
But as I drove in to work this morning, I realized that my “Honey, I think you know what my best days have been” comment was off base. Who am I to assume that he knows? That would be like assuming what the weather will be tomorrow without actually consulting any meteorological know-it-alls. One must put the information out there to assure understanding across the board.
So, brace yourselves, my ReaderFriends… we’re about to get sappy.
**1 The origin of this phrase: horsemanship. Google it. But carefully, because it’s also got some Rated XXX connotations, which are not synonymous with my state of being.
**2 The origin of this phrase: goose poop. Google it, too. But again… carefully. This one isn’t totally PG either.
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