I spent this morning grocery shopping. I had to hit three different stores to get everything I needed, but Neeps slept through it all, so no biggie. I had a suspicion that he was not feeling his best, and the 2+ hour nap only served to confirm that. Poor little guy.
I also spent this morning (and afternoon, so far) trying to ignore the vague sense of impending doom, which is primarily manifesting itself as mild-yet-unrelenting nausea. Unfortunately, ignoring it is not making it go away, and as I have no desire to dwell on it for the next 42 hours, I figured I'd better go ahead and blog about it, and thereby get it out of my system.
I return to the corporate work-force on Thursday, and I am pretty excited about going back to my job.
But.
I return to the corporate work-force on Thursday, and I am borderline devastated to be leaving Neeps. Or I would be, if I'd let myself think about it longer than the time it takes for me to say, "Ugh I feel sick no wait I'm not thinking about that la la la!"
I've done everything I can to take things in hand: there are lists and lists (and lists of lists), all so that I can feel some semblance of control over things. Supplies have been bought and Emergency Information Forms have been filled, Caregivers have been prepped and schedules Arranged. I have got this. Except... not emotionally.
I fully expect to spend most of Thursday crying; I figure if I just go ahead and accept that inevitability now, it won't be so bad when it happens. I'm lucky in that my clients are wonderful and will, I'm sure, understand if I answer the phone sounding like a congested elephant. (Note to self: add box of tissues to Supplies)
The thing is, I'm totally fine with crying on Thursday, because I don't want to spend any of my remaining time with Neeps in a soggy, stressful ball. He deserves better than that. And so do I.
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