It's still Fjebruary, Right?

I have been bad at blogging the Elisabeth's Figs (Finding Joy in Gratitude) this year. I am feeling grateful, but also not very organized. On the positive side, I haven't been able to make any terrible jokes about the tortured acronym yet. 

I am grateful for our friends. We have a funny friend group, most of you know this. On Monday morning when I woke up feeling queasy I texted our WhatsApp to ask if anyone else was feeling unwell, because I had only been with that group in the past few days, for our Valentine's Day Guys Cook dinner party. Everyone said they were fine. Collette asked what was going on with me and when I hadn't answered in ten minutes said if I was dead she had dibs on my shoes. Margot and Janet asked if I needed anything. I said I thought it was just a stomach bug and I would be fine and Collette said 

Eve had tried to Facetime me while they were loading me in the ambulance. Matt answered and told her I had the stomach bug and talked to her for a few minutes - we knew she would freak out if she knew the truth, so he wasn't going to tell her anything before we knew what was going on, with which I was in total agreement. When we were back in the waiting room waiting for the CT, so hour 10, I said "okay, but once we know that I'm okay or I'm dying you have to tell everyone this happened so they worry about me and Collette feels bad for what she said" - kidding, you know, mostly. I mean, I would have preferred to be languishing pale-ly and attractively or perhaps have been lightly stabbed, rather than being there with something diarrhea-related, but you get what you get. This was pretty much the first time I could sit upright and put a coherent sentence together, so although he rolled his eyes, Matt was relieved.

(Collette came over with soup and flowers the next day. Not because she felt guilty but because she likes to pretend to be a hardass while actually being warm and squishy.)

I have been reading Victor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning - am still on the part where he is in the concentration camp. I had already said that there was nothing like our ER episode to make you appreciate your dumb, normal little life, but I was aware that one night of excruciating pain was not that huge a deal compared to what some people are dealing with. Reading about all of the daily pains and humiliations that occurred in the camps, on top of the whole fact of the whole terrifying, dehumanizing phenomenon hammered that home even more. 

I was exhausted and achy for two or three days, and only doing gentle stretches. I looked up some 'yoga for fibromyalgia' etc. videos, and came upon the suggestion to try lying on my back with my legs up on the wall - something I had seen but never tried. I figured it was worth a shot.

First of all, HOW does one get that close to the wall? I feel like I would need handle grips installed in the floor. There is only so much scooching you can do, you know? I got as close as I could, and put on some spa music and covered myself with a blanket and used Eve's corgi Oodie for a pillow. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply and it felt pretty good. Then I heard some tippy-tappy paws and felt a little whump beside my head.

It was quite relaxing until the alarm I had set to make sure I did at least ten minutes went off and scared the hell out of me. 

I thought cool, not life-changing but feels good. 

The next day I got up and rearranged the entirety of the kitchen. 

I always forget to take Before pictures which is really unfortunate because the contrast is significant but also fortunate because if you saw the Before pictures any respect you presently hold for me would be in grave danger of disappearing. I have come to the conclusion that traditional kitchen cabinet design is useless. There's no point in putting anything behind the first row (if you have ADHD) because it might as well be gone forever. I don't feel like I am using the space efficiently, especially in the spice cupboard, but at least I can find Mexican Chili Powder or Cumin without having to pull out literally everything. Also, everything has to be in a jar, not in a package, or I will forever be buying packages of onion powder and paprika while I already have fifteen packages of onion powder and paprika already. 

I am grateful for being pain-free for now, having a pretty deep bench in terms of support (because my husband is in Korea and Japan and California for the next two weeks), weird spring-cleaning energy in February, and the amusement I am feeling at thinking about Matt coming home and cursing my name when he can't find a single thing in the kitchen