As you may remember from last week’s (hypothetical) installment, after successfully navigating two babysitting stints and putting on a mini gaming convention, I had to decide whether I was actually going to Denver or not. Lacking definitive reasons on either side of the choice, I flipped coin and discovered that I was indeed going to Denver….
Despite finding some of my adventures less strenous than expected, there was still a definite feeling of having been on-duty, and when it came to Monday I just wanted to crash. I didn’t *quite* get to (pesky Walgreens sales…), but Theresa did tell me to take it easy so I’d feel better by Tuesday.
The problem is, I still didn’t feel better on Tuesday. I had a sore throat, and felt completely drained physically. I felt like I just about had energy to get up and make tea and then head back to bed. And that really, really, wasn’t an option. Not when Theresa had to be out of the house most of the day and we were leaving on a trip the next day.
So, hey, I told myself, at least it’s just being exhausted, you still prefer that to being an emotional wreck, right? Live the life that unfolds before you, keep fighting, so on and so forth.
So I pushed my way through my own packing for the trip, found out that peppermint oil really is energizing (for what it’s worth at that point), and went through the fridge to throw away all the food that was anywhere near going bad.
By this time the peppermint oil had worn off, I was facing a pile of dishes which was the equivalant of something between a two-headed dragon and the ravenous bug-blatter beast of Trall, and I absolutely had to cook supper that evening.
It was somewhere around this point that I said to myself, “Just who do you think you are?” I blinked at this unexpected comment. The rest of it didn’t really come in words, but for those of you not able to translate my thought waves, it went something like this: “Do you still have a fire inside or not? What happened to the girl had all those plans to fight dragons to her last breath? Did you really buy into the idea that you would be useless in the end of the world as you know it, or are you going to *fight*?”
That was the best I felt all day. Even that little burst of energy didn’t last long, but for a little while it didn’t matter how horrible I felt. It might look like I was doing dishes, but I *knew* it was an epic fight, and win or lose I was giving it everything I had to give.
I barely made it through the day. And when I say, ‘the day’, I mean up until 7:30 when I finally got to go to bed. As a day it didn’t look like much, but I’d like to think that on some plane of existence it made into into the ‘ooh, this is a good part’ of my life story.
If nothing else, I think I found another little sliver of the dreams I accidentally traded in a while back for what most people call reality. But if I can live in a world where dirty dishes count as dragons, I’ll take that world over the boring one most people live in.
March 7th, 2010