I really didn't work all that much extra this week (8 hours), but the weekend has been feeling decadent in its lack of structure. I got back from work yesterday, ate and forced a nap, then made that hilariously easy and tasty McCormick's Chili. It was a puttering evening. The cat grabbed my lap for at least an hour and taught me something about sitting still.
Actually, there's plenty of structure to my day today, but the fact that I'm able to do what I want rather than work is what feels decadent. I'm going to the Y in just a bit; it's been far too long since my last workout. I'm planning a grocery shopping trip, mainly for Thanksgiving. I'm planning a fresh workout regimen and modifying my eating habits again. All that OT helped me fall off the wagon big-time, from eating red meat again to grazing on bad stuff. Changes have to occur.
My doc appt revealed good news and bad news: the cyst resolved itself, thank goodness, but the fibroids are growing. I'm ready to see a fertility specialist, made an appt; but eating a mainly vegetarian diet and exercising regularly have to improve things down there too. Making that appt for the fertility doc was such a shot in the arm, a ray of hope that I have no business rejoicing over, since my insurance likely won't cover it. But the people who say don't believe statistics...they need to remember that the damn numbers came from someplace scientific, and those numbers are saying I only have a 5% chance of conceiving naturally. I heard that number and something clicked finally. I'm a shark, always moving, always looking for the next step. That's the next step. How potential hormone injections will act in my already lithium-deprived brain isn't something I can worry about right now. It's worth it if it brings a child into our family.
It helps, having another reason for not trying for the supervisor position. In my boss's mind, I'm probably an obvious choice; been there almost 12 years, certainly have the skills. But I know I wouldn't be happy in that job, and that's what matters right now. This time, it isn't fear driving my appearance of cowardice; it's knowing I wouldn't be a good emotional and intellectual fit for the position.
Looking forward to the 3-day week. Will be nice to only work 8 hours at a stretch.