I just finished cutting and trimming the lawn, hosing out the garage and watering the front garden. There's nothing quite as satisfying as being dirty and hot from working hard. For one thing, you can justify that piece of chocolate you ate after breakfast.
Maybe tonight I'll dream about lush green landscaping or running through meadows of sweet summer flowers instead of dreaming of being told I have tuberculosis and have a 10% chance of survival. Actually 7% if you ask my Dad who, in my dream, thought honesty was better than the sugar coating policy my Mom had adopted. Although I'm not sure rounding up to 10 is all that sweet.
Does anyone even die from tuberculosis anymore? I mean in Canada? I mean your average, suburban, almost-middle-aged housewife - does she die from tuberculosis in 2005? I'm not worried (I don't even have a cough), I'm just asking.
I guess I'm just preoccupied with my body and what it has and hasn't done and will and won't seem to do. I just hope one day it decides it will get and stay pregnant.
I've been thinking a lot about having a little girl lately. I would be equally thrilled to have another little boy (since I know we make very, very cute little boys) but I can't get the idea of a baby girl out of my head for some reason. We even have a name for her. It came to me a few weeks after Thomas died, and even my beloved liked it (and the reason why I chose it).
Right now she's just a dream, but maybe one day she'll come true. Or he'll come true. Either way we'll be blissfully happy. And maybe then I'll stop dreaming of tuberculosis, euthanasia, and being a paraplegic with Barbara Streisand.
As always, time will tell.