Wherein Far too Many Sentences Begin with "And"...

The bed is cold... so very cold. It forces one to bundle up, put on extra blankets, rub their hands vigorously and then, finally, to cuddle up to the estranged spouse on the other side in a desperate attempt to absorb warmth. Then one remembers that they rather like the estranged spouse and they wish the estrangement never happened. It is water under the bridge, thanks to the marriage saving coldness. Not so sure if this works with a King or not as they are rather large and one can forget that one even has a spouse when inhabiting a King (as per P-Cute). But I have no King, just a wondrously cold Queen.

Cold can be good.

So can rehab.

Rehab can be very good, not just for the participant, but the onlooker as well. For my friend's mother is in rehab as we speak. Not the rehab of meth addicts or alcoholics. Medical rehab, rehabilitating after serious injury or illness.

And the friend, while discussing this rehab for her mother, mentions things like Speech Therapy and Swallow Rehab and then the part of my brain buried in diapers and 3 1/2 dozen jars of apple sauce canned while sick children orbited my being... that part of the brain starts to wiggle and jiggle, it wakes up, does some Sun Salutations and Warrior Ones, maybe even jogs a mile or so, then infuses the rest of my laundry-littered brain with daydreams of Modified Barium Swallow studies, of viscous liquids, of Apshasia, Dysphagia, Apraxia and Fluency. My brain remembers that it knows something, that it has, in fact, BEEN TO SCHOOL.

And for a brief imaginary moment, my brain is the therapist at the Rehab center helping my friends' mother, and the mother gets better and goes home for Thanksgiving. And my brain gets a plump little check at the end of the month, and the check is stored in the the sock drawer to be saved up and spent on a destination vacation with the afore-mentioned-no-longer-estranged spouse.

I tell my brain: "There there, little brain. Be still. Soon, my brain, soon".

Actually, not very soon at all. But someday.

And I chase the boy around the house, take the two-two to the doctor and fill prescriptions for antibiotics. I stack blocks, play Uno, snuggle the crying, diffuse the fighting and enforce naps. And I seriously consider eating an entire batch of pumpkin chocolate chip cookies by myself.

And I still don't know what to make for dinner.

And so it is Wednesday.