I tweet out the links to my three blogs; and those tweets land on Facebook due to the miracle of cross-reference-settings. Over there on Facebook someone responded to one of my posts about not complaining by acknowledging the process unfolding here. Yes! Score.
Standing on the deck last night, trying to decide whether to bring my giant plant back into the house, I closed my eyes. I’m an air hog. My breathing issues over the years have catapulted me outside at ungodly hours, gasping. Before my blood got sufficiently regulated to oxygenate my lungs, gulping air on the porch at 3:00 a.m. sustained me.
I felt the energy of that memory last night. The craziness of no one being able to tell me why I couldn’t breathe baffles me in retrospect. At the time, I trusted doctors who stared at me like gawkers at a freak show. I’ve told that story many times, most recently in my weekly blog. Last night the irony of it pulled some deep capacity for amusement from somewhere in the dark depths of my damaged soul. I laughed, actually chortled, standing on my deck at nine p.m. with the birds settling into their newly built nests in the maple trees and gutters rising above my head. I heard a robin call to its mate and imagined that they found this huge creature amusing. Probably I make no difference in their lives, but I pretended for a moment that I had been the source of a last happy exchange between two robins before they slept.
I watched a video this morning about one of those supplements that people claim heal what holds you back. I went to the website and read about it. I almost bought its promises until I got halfway down and read, You must daily consume the equivalent in ounces of water of half your body weight. Well, no wonder the stuff helps you. It forces you to actually drink as much water as doctors keep goading me to gag down my throat. The water alone will cure what ails you.
I laughed so hard I had to clutch the edge of the table to keep from falling to the floor. I dragged my butt into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Four ounces. With a shot of lemon. Take that, Universe!
It’s the twentieth day of the thirty-eighth month of My [Never-Ending] Year Without Complaining. Life continues.