My husband told me today that I seem really tense.
Actually, I had been feeling pretty good lately so this observation came as a bit of a surprise.
Although I skipped the past two days for various reasons, baby M and I have gotten into a new routine of daily jogs.
Naps are my barometer of personal "funks." I have only taken one nap in the past six weeks ~ it was today and it was only because it was dark and raining. And cold.
I walked Wesley out to the bus stop this morning in a t-shirt with holes in the armpits, drawstring shorts and flip flops. Sexy practically oozed off of me, let me tell YOU.
The cold air hit me as I walked outside but I was too lazy to walk back inside and get a jacket.
Half way to the bus stop I realized that this was a bit of a mistake. My blood has thinned out and 50 degrees now is surprisingly bone chilling. The family in Minnesota doesn't like to hear this, however, and I am reminded that it has already snowed up there.
The children who have been residents of Florida for longer than six months were bundled up in winter coats. Mine was speeding around on his scooter, pockets bulging with Bakugan balls, in camouflage shorts and an Aruba t-shirt. The Swedish Viking blood runs deep in this one.
The chill creeped into my bones and stayed there. It was a chill that wouldn't go away and clung to me like a wet rag.
I decided to curl up in my soft, warm flannel sheets and down comforter when the baby went down for a nap.
It took a little bit of courage to hang out in my room today. This is because there is a very large, very dead opossum directly outside my bedroom window.
Technically, I know that it can't hurt anything since it is already dead. It is actually just the creeper factor, mostly, because seriously ~ have you ever taken a good look at an opossum? Ew.
I nearly wet myself (it doesn't take much these days: a sneeze, a hearty cough, a good scare) when I opened the blinds this morning and saw it lying there.
He was annoyed.
I was interrupting his dork online game in which he discusses strategies and civilization building techniques with pocked faced teenagers in Europe and Australia.
"Do you think it's dead," he asked after he had gasped a little bit. He would have been less surprised, I think, to see a gator since our backyard is a freshwater canal.
I looked at the legs, angled up a little in apparent rigor mortis, and the open, cloudy eyes. It looked pretty dead to me.
"Maybe it is just playing opossum, like they say? You know, like when someone 'plays opossum?' Let's see if it goes away," he suggested, then walked off.
That would have been too easy; alas, it did not go away.
It is currently being rained on and decomposing outside the bedroom window. I shudder at what kind of wicked vermin it will attract after the sun goes down. It is enough to keep me awake with the creepy crawlies.
I suppose it is good thing that I took a nap today just in case my sleep is interrupted with thoughts of possums, dead animals and decomposition occurring six feet from me.
Excuse me while I go take a pill.