That Kind of Day

It's easy to write a lot when you're beginning a blog.
You're excited. You have all sorts of idea for topics. You have high hopes, high expectations.
It's months and years later, when it's not fresh and new and exciting that becomes the challenge.

That said, today was noteworthy.
Dango, Brian's service dog, has been sick of late. I have no idea what he got into, but given we live right down the road from a state forest and a wide variety of wildlife wanders through our yard, the range of possibilities is substantial. He seems to be getting over it, but cooking a special bland diet after rushing him in for intravenous fluids and an antiemetic has a way of putting a girl behind in her work.
So the stack of what the dog puked on laundry is getting in the way of the what you've been wearing for two weeks laundry, which was already being set back by the new duvet covers to save the bed from the dog vomit laundry. And don't forget the shit you haven't worn in years because you suddenly lost fifteen pounds and your pants don't fit laundry.
Which is, admittedly, an awesome problem to have.

I had high hopes for today, which were dashed when I woke up with something suspiciously similar to what laid out the dog last week. Angry. Tummy.
I soldiered through and went with the hubby to the gym anyways. I took it easy, spinning for 45 minutes and trying not to think of how awful I felt.
I didn't accomplish anything before class at noon.
I got even sicker in class.
And I managed to get home without any major incident - but also without eating much of anything.
Or remembering to take anything out of the freezer to defrost, so my dinner options were abyssmal.

So what made today noteworthy?
Because it was still awesome.
Brian and I are taking an English course together, and our professor was in rare comedic form today.
My Psych class was discussing stress disorders, and my professor knows my story and was letting me field questions from classmates and chime in at will.
Both professors were totally okay with me having missed class on Thursday to rush Dango to the doggie ER; Dr. O because he has two beagles and completely understands the concept of furchildren, and Dr. Burlin because she was sick on Thursday and had cancelled class. Win!
Right after class I have to rush across campus to the tutoring center because my appointments start 15 minutes after Psych ends. I stopped in the cafeteria, saw my husband, got a smile and a hug and a few words, got to wave at the amazing school chef, Henry, and made it to work right at 3:30... but my appointment was late, so I got to breathe for a bit ANYways.
My appointments were all good. 25 minutes of an excellent student to start things off. Then 55 minutes of a non-native English speaker who isn't a bad student, she just needs a lot of help with vocabulary in science courses. Cake. 45 minutes break, in which I chit-chatted with my boss (who also has furchildren and was completely understanding of me missing work on Thursday and helped me fix the reported time errors) and got Henry to make me a grilled cheese sandwich.
Last appointment? A fellow tutor who really doesn't need to be getting tutored... but who asks the absolute best questions so I always love it when she schedules time with me. It is a lot more fun to get to think critically about the subject matter and have to dig down into my archives for biochemical reasons behind physiological features. Really, I love it.
It makes it better that she wants to go into the same field as me, and I'm secretly harboring a plot for her & I to start a practise together. Best coworker ever? I think so.

My husband randomly appeared at my cubicle door with half a KitKat bar.

I came home to a marked absense of dog vomit. Huzzah.

I crawled into my green fuzzy parka and parked in front of my computer to try to proactively fix the mess I have to deal with when I get to my volunteer job tomorrow and started typing this instead. Brian is elsewhere in the house, taking care of the dinner issue so I can concentrate on feeling better.

And, the kicker, Mom bought me a comprehensive (and older-than-me-thus-awesome) book on storing food. Freezing, canning, drying, curing, pickling, preserving, you name it. Its a book about tasty things. It makes daydreaming about my coming garden that much sweeter.

So, yes, I'm miserable amounts of sick. Yes, I have things going on that are detrimental to my overall mental health. Yes, my anxiety about my doctor's appointment in two weeks is getting out of control. But, no, it doesn't have to dictate my life.
Today can still be a good day.