On January 5, I received a call that my father was hospitalized. It was quite serious. I left the next morning and spent three days helping out my Mom, being with my siblings, and making sure my father would make it. When I returned home, I went through two migraines, got a nice boil on my tush from sitting for 24 of 120 hours (two twelve-hour travel days), and then I passed a kidney stone.
The next Friday, our whole household went through a weekend of GI virus. We spent more time in our bathrooms than any group should.
Our beloved 15-year-old cat died, suddenly, without warning, one evening.
Last night, our older daughter, Moriah, was diagnosed with pneumonia, along with a probable torn intercostal muscle, causing a sharp pain in her left shoulder.
Right now, I am trying to fight off (a) depression, (b) a mild persecution complex, and (c) the thought that what lies around the corner will be just as crappy as what has recently happened. Along with a pretty busy schedule at home, these have combined to keep me from blogging as much as I usually do, and with enthusiasm.
