February

                                      Scraping ice from the countertops last year

It's been a slow week. A slow month, really, waiting impatiently for February to spread her icy wings and fly out of here. I was hoping the weather would remain somewhat warm with no more cold snaps, but it was not to be. I saw with dismay that we were going to get a few days of sleet and rain and I groaned inwardly. We have just discovered we might possibly have a gas leak so the gas is shut off for the time being. This means that while the upstairs remains toasty, the downstairs, heated solely by gas and supplemented by some electric heaters, is extremely cold. Like wear your coat and shoes in the kitchen cold. But while I am lamenting that, let me remember that last year it was so much worse. Last year, during the state wide ice storm we had I washed a couple of dishes and laid them on a paper towel to dry and when I came down the next morning (in coat, hat, shoes and scarf) the dishes were completely frozen to the counter. And that was WITH the gas on. So really I am not complaining too much. But wouldn't you know it, as soon as the ice came down I started getting sick. I wouldn't really say I have been staying in bed, but I have spent most of the last week in my easy chair, with my heating pad close by. Let's face it. When your heating pad is your best friend, it's time to admit you're old. So old me went to bed early last night, and at the crack of dawn this morning my brain was firing up. As I laid there I was remembering one by one all the kindnesses of God to the Mr. and myself this past year. There have been so many, too numerous to count, really, but sometimes it does a person good to think about those things and to start the day with a thankful heart. The 8 Am alarm on my phone went off for the Mr.'s meds, and I very reluctantly slid out of bed and got on with my day. Dog outside and back and fed. Check. Meds. Check. Hair combed. Check. Coffee in my favorite polka dotted yellow mug x 3. Check, check, check. As I sipped it occurred to me that we ought to get busy with our taxes. I had all the papers together. I knew where everything was for a change. I brought all the papers in and handed them to the Mr. As I sat back down in my easy chair and pulled my heating pad up over my legs I heard the Mr. say Where's the W2? Huh? I know it's there. All the papers are together. It's not here. Oh man. Up out of my easy chair, and casting aside my best friend with a sigh, I went over to inspect the papers. He was right. It wasn't there. So I went into the office. And spent the next two hours looking for that darn old W2. I was growing increasingly irritable. I was not feeling well. I snapped at the hovering Mr. And felt bad immediately, of course. I was upset because I had made sure we were ready. I felt like it was all my fault. I felt like the Mr. felt like it was all my fault. Which wasn't helping. If there is one thing at the top of my hate list it is looking for papers that I know should be there but I can't find. If there is anything I hate more than that, it is looking for papers I know should be there but aren't, while I am sick. Finally I gave it up. I sat back down in my chair and pulled up my friend for warmth and comfort, and thought about where it could be. I honestly could not remember having it, although the Mr. is sure he handed it to me. I got up and went across the room to the folder that I keep the Mr.'s vitals log in.  I don't know why I thought it might be in there, but it was in the same vicinity at one time as the W2, so maybe they got mixed up together. I opened it and rifled through the thick stack of pages that have been documenting his daily health since December 9.   Toward the back was all the Introduction to Liver Transplant paperwork that we received when he was first discharged from the hospital. In a rush, as I glanced through I was transported back to what that felt like just three months ago. That amazing feeling that the biggest miracle on earth had just happened, and it had happened to US. Emotion washed over me. I couldn't help it. I was smiling. Even though I still could not find that paper, even though it still chapped me that despite my best intentions I had lost it, it was ok. I saw the big picture. We won the lottery, baby. We won the lottery. I never did find that paper. But it didn't matter anymore. Either it will turn up or we will get a copy. And tomorrow the weather will be warm again. I won't have to wear my coat in the kitchen. That's always a bonus.