You know how when you just know something’s going to happen, but you’re just sure exactly when it’s going to happen; and all you can do is sit around and wait?
It’s unnerving, right?
You keep looking over your shoulder, expecting to see one of Tony Sopranos’ hit men and you think you see him in the shadows, every few minutes, but you never really see an actual figure; just a vague shadow, that disappears into an imaginary mist.
Well, I keep waiting to “pay” for my big, bash, birthday weekend, but oddly, the debt hasn’t been called in… yet. I’m sure I can feel Tony’s guys, lurking in the darkness, but so far, nothing.
It was a decadent weekend!
Well, I say decadent… I guess it was maybe a tiny bit depraved, at least for this 64-year-old woman, with PMR/GCA, a bad knee and numb, tingling feet!
I was a wild women! I ate all the bad things, I drank lots and lots of red wine, I walked 4.2 miles in one freakin day, I ran around London like a Swirling Dervish!
And now… I wait.
I thought Monday would begin with a “BANG,” however as I carefully opened one eye at time, and peeked around my bedroom, I felt surprisingly “okay.” Hmmmm? Strange. I was however, shall we say, cautiously optimistic.
Maybe there was like a time delay, on these things… I mean it’s “pay back,” right? And they say, “Pay back is a Bitch,” so it’s not going to accommodate your schedule or your expectations! It will make you pay back, when you least expect it! That’s only fair.
For some reason on Monday, after this totally self-indulgent weekend, I began to notice just how filthy my house was!
WTF? Who’s been cleaning my house for the last 6 months, a 100-year-old, blind person?
Now, you need to know I have ALWAYS kept an immaculate house! Even when I worked full-time, between me and the cleaning lady, who came every 3 weeks, we kept that place spotless. I blame it on the OCD… “a place for everything, and everything in its place,” will be my epitaph.
Anyway, feeling kinda good, I went to town! First the bathroom, then the kitchen… then with energy to spare (Seriously, I had energy to spare!) I vacuumed the whole house and washed the kitchen and hallway floors!
By about 3:00 I was tired, but like Phil Collins, I was not dead yet! With the house in order, I laid on the couch and watched several episodes of “The Good Fight,” and I waited…
Tuesday, saw a little less activity out of me, because I was sore, but surprisingly not PMR/GCA sore! No, sore like I had done too much! Walked too much, bent down to much, stretched too much, lifted too much, pushed too much, pulled too much… you name it, I did too much of it!
And here we are, today is Wednesday, and still nothing.
Still sore, but not crippled by it. Not overly tired or incapacitated by fatigue, although I did sleep straight through the night and slept 9 hours! Even my bladder and I were on the same page last night, remarkable! None of the aches and pains, usually associated with my auto immune conditions, are rearing their ugly heads… yet.
Where I come from, nothing means something. If you ask someone what’s wrong and they say “nothing,” you know it’s something. If the kids are quite (acting like nothing’s going on) you know they’re up to NO GOOD! If you ask your husband what he’s thinking about, and he say’s “nothing,” ...no wait, that one’s probably true! He’s most likely really not thinking about anything at all.
So, nothing happening, means something’s definitely coming.
I’m Italian-American. Actually I’m Sicilian-Irish-American. There’s a lot of innate loyalty, duty, pride, tradition and honour (yeah, ok, maybe it’s that honour amongst thieves kind of honour) oozing through my veins. And although I may have my foibles, and oddities, I pay my dues.
A deal is a deal. I would never renege on an unspoken “agreement.” I had a legendary birthday celebration weekend and I’m ready to pay the piper.
So here I sit, with nothing happening.
Looking over my shoulder.
Ready to meet Tony’s guys and pay my dues.