After several weeks of ebbing through a respiratory infection, and over going under the waves for long stretches of blurred-dream sleep or half-awake gentle floods of images, I’m finally on the mend. While the antibiotics, supplements, rest and beef broth all helped, what also aided me was the simple and happy act of moving furniture from one place to another and thus making the old spaces new again.
I began with hauling my desk into Natalie’s room so that I finally have an office in an actual room rather than the through-way of our music/playroom (that links the upstairs to the downstairs, where all manner of video and screen type distractions abide). Then I hauled chairs from other rooms to the music/playroom to make a cozy place to sit and read or stare out at the sky. Finally, I moved other chairs to where the moved chairs were.
For years, whenever I moved anything, my kids, especially Daniel, would flip out just a little because now what was familiar wasn’t. Although we adopted the family motto of “We fear all change,” that never stopped me from occasionally rearranging the pieces in the body of the house.
Because I had limited energy, I would butt and haul something, collapse on my bed for 20 minutes, then get up and butt and haul something else. To be honest, this little re-arranging took about three days, but it was a welcome distraction from the I’m-going-to-jump-out-of-skin-if-I-don’t-get-well-fast fevers that overtook me. So now something old is someplace new, and in its landing, I’m landed into a greater sense of patience with my recovery.
Pictures: Old desk in new room; old chairs in new place; old husband in newly-slip-covered chair. Voila!