Yesterday was bad.

Leave work at lunch, chest pain and burning eyes bad. Getting another letter from the genetic specialist explaining that absolutely nothing new was discovered in the latest round of tests did not help.

Not having her post mortem report, still, seven months later does not help.

Not having her, period. This really does not help at all.

.::.

Today I woke up early, worked hard enough that the day flew by, spent another 40 minutes on the elliptical machine at the gym. Either I was meant to spend life in a rotund fashion or someone’s feeding me chocolate in my sleep, but damn it all to hell I can’t seem to change my tired old body.

But those endorphins helped a titch, I’ll admit.

.::.

We booked flights for Christmas last week. First holiday at home in two years. One week in the bitter and beautiful north, one in the warm and foreign south. I feel neither here nor there about either, truth be told. I want to, and I’m sure I will. But it hasn’t kicked in yet.

.::.

I think it’s time to go back to the whole couch/talking things out routine. I feel like I’m moving backward this week and I wonder if maybe that’s normal.

I’ll bet a million pennies that no one can tell me either way.