Walking Backwards

While I am probably bordering on too much information, I am just too excited to hold it in. Guess what surgery I am having two weeks from tomorrow? Well, the image below should give you a gross and disturbing idea . . .



I am so happy about this. Really, insanely happy. This is probably going to bring an end to my debilitating, mind-numbing headaches. I will be able to breath through my nose again. I will not suffer the same jaw pain and I will be able to see better out of my left eye.

AND I am going to have four to seven days of laying in bed under the influence of heavy duty pain-killers and sleeping. Because of this I am not going to have to relive the horrors of Nicholas' surgery last year unprepared.

Yay, scary and medieval-torture-like surgery!

I find it hilariously funny that in attempting to get a photo for today's post, I could not find a single clean and uncluttered surface in the whole house! Go me and my slammin' housekeeping skills!



This is the time of year that I play catch up with all that I have let sit neglected around here for the remainder of the year when I am in school and shuttling the kid back and forth and trying to get work done and looking for more work and on and on. But the summer, oh the summer is reserved for the pleasure of knocking all of that dust from the nooks and crannies and subsurface areas of my house. It is for finally throwing away that broken remote control that sits on my headboard and only brings frustration and dismay to those who attempt to use it. It is for out with the old and in with the new (well not new, but throughly cleaned and repaired thrift store finds). And I love it. Well, not it, the process of cleaning, per se, but the results of an intensive couple of weeks of dedicated cleaning. I like to be able to sit on my floor again and not have to question every item of food I pull from my pantry.



However, there is one part of this cleaning/scrapping/culling process that I dread, and that is the paring down of my books. For me, my books are like sacred relics, tomes that hold all of the information that I could ever want at my fingertips, an endless fount of entertainment that is only limited by my time and imagination. Sigh, but something must be done. I have run out of shelf space you see. Books are no longer carefully categorized and lovingly treated in accordance to their cherished position, instead they sit stacked by the couch amidst the cat hair and dust bunnies. I have books propping up lamps and piled in boxes. We have books in the kitchen and books in the hallway.



So what is a girl to do, cut the cord and let these books float into the realm of those that could appreciate and treasure them, despite the fact that most will probably be relegated to the bargain bin at the used bookstore or suffer a more intolerable fate? Or should I keep them and accept my own fate as the woman who will die old and alone after a teetering tower of books collapses on me? I just don't know yet. Maybe sweeping up the cat hair around them would be a start, but that just seems like a lot of work ;)

There are few things that are more difficult to resume than the regular chronicling of one's life. So I accept that this is fleeting. I accept that I am not in here for the long term and that I will eventually give up this and go back to ignoring the button in my toolbar that indicates that blogger is still there and waiting with baited breath for me to return to my misplaced commas and run-on sentences. However, the return of my voice would be good and I so want to hear it. I am past the point of writing for an unknown, distant reader and will now just write to see where and what it brings me. The sitting at my desk and pouring out something that may or may not be cohesive really appeals to me now. Let's just see how long it will last.