While all the while pretending to not be too ill, and avoiding all the squishy babies at church lest they get the pox and not the shingles (this virus is complicated) I had time to contemplate my life and get a bit too sad about our state of affairs: no house, no money, not much of nothing.
So, when I recovered, to cheer myself up, I applied for a job at The Fatted Calf in Rockwall. My first waitressing job:) The food was great. The people SUPER NICE and the tips were starting to pick up. BUT three days in, I turned to get help figuring out my till, when I slipped on a wet floor, and fell to the right, bashing my head and ear on a door jamb, and then over corrected to the left, slamming my left elbow and knee into the wall and floor. I laughed until I saw blood. I stood up and almost threw up. Honestly, five weeks later, I am still limping. Needless to say, I quit the job, and too soon, because they would have paid for me to see a doctor. I just blew it off because these forty year old bones are new to me in a way. They used to heal MUCH faster, but then again, I used to be a bit more agile.
I didn't quit just because of the fall, but also because, Chris answered an ad on Craigslist about bartering his cleaning service for a free apartment in Lakewood and BAM we moved. (This apartment happened to be five addresses down from where the kids were already enrolled in school and one address over from this property I have been lusticating after.)
The apartment is super nice and the courtyards are gorgeous, and we are appreciating it all.
I am looking into supplements.
I hopped up the stairs two at a time this week and did a Rocky dance at the top. SO right now I am just being grateful for working knees and working disposals and trash finds and friends who give us furniture and help us move stuff and and cool kids and a sweet husband and a God