I wanted to call this blog “L is for Life, Jim, But Not As We Know It.” Ten points if you get the reference.
I don’t have much to say today, so I’ll just ramble a bit, if it’s all the same with you.
I’m tired. I’m two weeks away from Texas’s standardized test in U.S. History, and my students are sick of my face. I’m sick of my face, too.
Speaking of which, my face hurts. I have a toothache.
To get my mind off the toothache, I bought a FitBit. I’m too dense to set it up. Maybe I don’t want to know what it has to say. I know, I need to know. That doesn’t mean I want to know. I’d rather deal with my lousy health by pretending I’m healthy and don’t have to watch my heart rate or check my blood glucose. Stupid FitBit, reminding me that I’m not in the least bit fit.
I’m being negative. Let’s talk about something else.
My husband is watching television over there. He’s kind of amazing. I can’t believe someone loves me like he does. Me! You have to know me to appreciate the gravity of this. We think we’re all entitled to that kind of love until we actually have it. Then it becomes kind of surreal. He loves me. Wow… How did that happen?
The ibuprofen and oral benzocaine is starting to kick in. You don’t appreciate how wonderful the lack of agonizing pain is until you get a toothache, or whatever flavor of pain you battle, and it goes away.
We should learn to walk through life appreciating when it’s good. Not just the bliss, mind you. The lack of agony. I don’t know about you, but I take for granted the lack of agony much too much.
My husband and my two sons are my lack of agony. I’m so incredibly blessed to have them. To have a God who watches over me, most likely shaking His head. To have my job that I don’t love right now, but I will again soon. To have my friends, one of whom will likely yell at me for not setting up my FitBit yet.
I think I came up with a nickname for my FitBit. It’s not suitable for a PG-rated blog. I shouldn’t really hate it before I even learn how to turn it on.
Life is funny. Unexpected. It doesn’t work quite like the novel I’m writing. There’s not inciting event, no rising action, no climax, followed by a clean denouement. We must be drawn to stories like that because it gives us that moment when we close the book with a sigh, the story resolved, things as they should be.
A lack of agony.
And no more toothache.