1 a.m.

What am I doing up?  Watching Alton Brown cook asparagus, reading research abstracts and blogs, going through fashion magazines to see which ones I want to keep…Or maybe it was that Thai iced tea with dinner.

After reading Linnea's blog (which I hadn't visited for quite awhile), I came away with another wake up call to the huge divide between feeling "normal" when your meds work, and how things get bad fairly quickly when resistance sets in.  For some it's the appearance of fluid—I've had a pericardial and a pleural effusion, and the wheeziness I feel now is…what?  Interstitial lung disease?  "Inflammation" in the lower lobe of my left lung?  An effusion slowly creeping in? I'll find out next week, I guess.  But it's troublesome.  The inhalers aren't doing the trick.
The hubby gets home tomorrow.  I've been packing but mostly I feel like I've been taking the time to do this—read and write, go through stuff—rather than cook and clean, which seems to be what I do continuously when he's home.  Moving always comes with fights over "my stuff".  It's all my stuff, it seems—all the kitchen stuff—even though he hates eating out because of his constant travel.  He doesn't realize that his increasingly discriminating tastes and my health concerns has created the need for a kitchen that looks like the housewares section of a department store crossed with a Mormon storehouse.  The Slow Food movement is alive and well at my house.  Then there's furniture, books, decorative items, clothes…
Must be time to sleep, I'm getting cranky!

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