You might have noticed I was a little scarce after the holidays. Because I fell.
As in three times, all slipping on ice. After the third time, the husband started holding me — annoyingly — by the elbow, like he was doting on his ancient and frail gran. No serious injuries fortunately, but enough to cause some weird back-spasming thing and some exquisite pain in my left trapezius (I think). So not functioning too well, these last couple of days.
So to sum up this year:
Enough, I said, is enough after the falls. I was angry enough to spit, and frustrated enough to cry.
But then I remembered this:
We spent a delightful Christmas Day with an old friend, who, by-the-by, has some fairly troublesome and significant medical problems. She insisted this year on cooking us Christmas dinner deluxe — complete with turkey and tortière and homemade pickles. It pretty well wiped her out. Afterwards, we had our usual perfunctory discussion about her well-being — she dislikes talking about it — and at the end, gazing at knuckles contorted by rheumatoid arthritis, she said, “Well, it beats the hell out of the alternative.”
And also I remembered this:
We spent a delightful Boxing Day with another old friend who cooks in the firm belief that too much is certainly not enough, so dinner began with cold shrimp, hot hors d’oeuvres and a meat and cheese tray, wine, and processed merrily along through bread, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, Caesar salad, broccoli with cheese sauce, wine, wine, wine, coffee by the gallon, cheesecake and ice cream. Her marriage is as at the edge of a cliff, and has been for the better part of a year. I fear the fall to the abyss will be rapid. She presided happily over the cheerfully chaotic — and loving — theatre of her family: this Boxing Day, for her, was a good one. It may have been the best five hours I have ever spent with her, watching her watch her family in her cramped kitchen.
It’s all a matter of perspective.
I have a home.
A happy marriage.
A full pantry.
An interesting and well-paying job.
Money in the bank.
A reliable vehicle.
It’s better than the alternative. Much better.
So, no more whingeing and whining. But still, the end of 2010 won’t come fast enough.