Monday began with a heavy load of domestic duties prior to Steve’s arrival: a union of one man who carefully avoids over-stimulation with another who wants as much stimulation as is possible all the time! While he’s here, I may have some clinic work to do; that could be a challenge for Steve. Regardless of the differences between us, we had the most fabulous visit last time he was here.
Whereas my walking was okay, one foot is very swollen, and one hand is badly bruised by my fall. But I was totally functional, and that’s important for Steve’s visit. When I told him I’d fallen, he replied, “Well get well fast because you are my guide while I’m there.” Compassion is not his strong point.
He arrived right on time, and we came home to get him settled and to just hang out together. Then we went to The Surf for dinner. We sat on the deck of the pub on a perfect evening, overlooking the ocean. It was spectacular and Steve was thrilled. When we came home, we started to watch a movie, but I bailed to go to bed early. I was beat.
The forecasted rain for tomorrow is gone. Sigh. Endless watering is ahead for me and it’s tiresome. I’m in a quitter frame of mind. I’m rather sick of watering, I want to quit the clinic, and I even feel poorly about the writing I’m doing for STAMMA. I want to be alone and do nothing but read and putz. It will pass.
We’re about to take Sheba for a walk. Her first in ages, but she’s looking good. Then we’ll go shopping, go for another walk at Sandwell Beach and then the boys—Eoin, François and Jay—are coming for dinner.