Recuperating

Trying to take care of myself sure makes my mind work in strange, yet utterly predictable, ways.  I have a strong desire to clean and organize the house.  It’s a safe desire, because I’m not going to do it.  Taking care of myself, you know. 

Tired of reading?  A little.  And feeling a little guilty, and annoyed because I feel guilty.  I’m back at work, not full days because I’m taking care of myself.  But I woke up before 6 am with visions of work dancing through my head.  Phone calls to make!  Patients to chase! (Oops, can’t do that yet – taking care of myself)

But life is good – I don’t have strep.  (Wretched times for other people are good to cut my own whining short.)

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