missroserose | Evening frustrations: Defeated!

I made it to work today, for the first full day since getting sick two weeks ago. I was productive and useful, and afterward I went to yoga class. There were definitely more than a few poses where my balance/strength wasn't to its usual standard, but on the whole I made it through okay. Not great, but okay.

I'd intended to walk home, as part of my regaining-stamina program, but I had overestimated my remaining energy, and felt a little lightheaded. So rather than push myself and get sick again I called Brian, and went and got some tea at the coffee shop while I waited. The flavor of tea I picked ended up being black, which really wasn't what I wanted (wouldn't you think a flavor called "apricot peach" would be an herbal tea?), but it happens.

Brian came and got a chai, and got me, and we drove up the hill. In the process of getting up our street and our driveway, through some quirk of physics, roughly a quarter of his chai came out through the sipping hole in the lid to his cup and ended up all over the car. We parked, I got a sponge and cleaned it out, I went inside.

In my half braindead state, I happened to pick up a couple of things to throw away with one hand, and take my earrings out with the other. Guess which hand tossed things in the kitchen trash. >< Realizing my mistake, I grabbed a pair of rubber gloves and went digging through the bacon grease and rotten cheese and moldering vegetables ("What an interesting smell you've discovered!"); but despite my best efforts, I could only find one. Since it was a pair I got for cheap and wasn't all that attached to, I just tossed it; the cost/benefit ratio of continuing the search was starting to get way out of proportion. But it didn't make me feel any smarter.

Given that I'd done a lot of hip stretches, and that baths always make me feel better, I decided to run myself one with the last of my epsom salts. I put the plug in, got the water going, added the salts, and went to start myself a pot pie...and when I checked on the bath five minutes later, it wasn't any more full. The chain for the plug had gotten caught beneath it and propped it open, and I'd inadvertently rinsed the last of my epsom salts (including some quite expensive scented ones) down the drain. Worse, our hot water heater is just the right size for one proper full bath at the right temperature; fill the tub too full, or accidentally drain half the hot water, and the water ends up tepid and awful. (Is there anything more disappointing and awful on this planet than a tepid bath? It's like Christmas with no presents.)

I was going to just turn the water off and forget about it, dealing with it like I'd dealt with all the other evening's frustrations, but some part of me rebelled. I'd never had any luck doing the "add a pot of boiling water" trick - our tub is larger than average, so the increase in temperature was never really noticeable. So I plugged the tub, ran it to the appropriate level, and in the meantime put three pots of water on to boil - four, if you count the fact that the electric kettle heated twice as fast as the two on the stove. I had no idea if it would get the water hot enough, and it was a fairly large expenditure of energy for something frivolous, but god dammit, I'd had enough settling without even really trying this evening.

The water temperature was perfect. And I put Brian Eno's Lux on my iPod while things were boiling, and poured myself a glass of wine. And I have a nice hot potpie to eat and the remainder of the wine, and Roger Ebert's delightful memoir Life Itself to read, and a cosy bed to get into when I cool off enough from the bath.

I win.