I was chugging right along yesterday, accomplishing housework right and left, and feeling that boost you get when you can SEE that a job is done, and KNOW that it will stay done for maybe 4 more hours. Then I went to daily Mass and the Novena to the Blessed Mother, and Father H, in his mini-nugget of wisdom that passes for a homily at daily Mass, told us that “Every time we hear the Gospel at Mass we are left with a choice.” (chew on THAT for a while–he’s right!)
Then after lunch it was off to a new gynecologist (my old one retired) to see about a problem I’ve been having that is feminine in nature. After a few rounds of him recommending that I take care of said problem with birth control pills, IUDs or other methods that I find extremely objectionable, and me telling him this, he suggested that right now we schedule a thyroid workup and that he would do an endometrial biopsy. He could do that test immediately if I had the time, which I did, so I figured that instead of dreading it I’d just get it over with. I had no idea that it would actually turn out to be minor surgery.
Well, that was the end of my domestic productivity for the day. TheDad, poor guy, worked late and then came home to find me on the couch and no dinner ready, and had to get takeout for the kids. Big Brother missed out on his opportunity to carbo-load on home-cooked carbs before his first cross-country meet of the season.
I think the grocery-shopping will have to wait until tomorrow. It’s back to the couch for me, with my coffee, ibuprofen, and library book. If I save it up all day, I know I can manage an easy dinner.
I’d appreciate the generosity of your prayers as I wait for the result of the biopsy.