what if we want to give you brackets cuz we like giving you brackets??

It's ridiculous and illogical and utterly useless to focus on that fear, yet I can't let it go yet.

It's understandable.

I'm still adjusting to not hearing the snoring, because the mental programing is "no snores equals either no sleep or no breath".

keep watching Drew sleep, listening to him breathe, and feeling the tiny panic in the back of my chest that he will stop. It's ridiculous and illogical and utterly useless to focus on that fear, yet I can't let it go yet.

YOu are not alone.

Aw, Pix. That makes me want to give you a big snorgle, and a nice cup of tea.

The last two mornings I have woken up before Dan (which is a miracle seriously unto the coming of Christ) and have been able to lay there in that happy morning drowsy state. And this morning, it's cool here, about 56, so I was all snuggled in, and had a cat on my chest and Dan breathing at my back, and I was able to look out the open window at the grey and quiet, and hear the birds.

It was soothing, and happy.

9 hours of good, solid sleep, from 10 to 7 am. Life. Is. Good.

keep watching Drew sleep, listening to him breathe, and feeling the tiny panic in the back of my chest that he will stop.

I remember that feeling. Taking care of someone is hard. I'm really glad, for both of you, that Drew's home.

Erin, that sounds like a perfect moment. Glad you got to enjoy it!

I'm still adjusting to not hearing the snoring, because the mental programing is "no snores equals either no sleep or no breath".

Once that conditioning is gone, I hope you never have to worry about it from me again.

Now if I can stop my stupid brain from taking the damn mask off in the middle of the night.

When my sister first started taking her asthma medication, my mom would wake up in a panic and run to check on her several times a night, because she'd gotten so used to hearing sleeping breathing noises from my sister's bedroom that the lack of noise woke her up.

I hope Drew's recovery keeps going well, Pix, and that you can relax soon.

Vent:

Dear Mom,

I really am disabled. I've been disabled since 1995 and even the government doesn't seem to think I'm faking it. So why are you demanding that I clean out the refrigerator, wash other people's dishes, do weekly vacuuming and dusting of a large amount of square footage? If I could do those things without putting myself into a great deal of pain and making myself worse, I would have a job. And if I could have a job, I would no way in hell be living here.

Your loving but perplexed daughter

{{{Spidra}}} figure-it-out~ma for your mom.

I'm watching "A Bit of Fry and Laurie." They're so young and fresh-faced I just want to smish them. One of the sketches I could swear they were peering into the future to mock Stephen Fry's podcast.

I am 20 minutes early for date#2 with gal #2. It is 93°f here. 15° hotter than my place. Thankfully we are meeting at a Jamba Juice.