This week I have come down with a cold and just felt generally uninspired. Last night I had a drugged-up, groggy, cold-mind dream that I didn't like so much. Someone told me I was a horrible writer, and I then declared, with great conviction, that I would never write again. To me, that dream amounts to a nightmare. So here I am.
Last week, my father-in-law lost his job and is now scrambling for a new one, and we pray faithfully that he will find a good one that will suit him. We just keep reminding him that he's still a doctor, and God has a great plan for him. My husband is looking for a new job as well, and is feeling a bit discouraged. I feel for them both, I hate looking for a job, and in the months to come I will have to start looking for a new one as well, as teachers only get work during the school year.
There is still time, and willpower, to enjoy life, however. Last weekend I did not get nearly enough sleep, which probably kept my immune system from being able to bolster this cold that I'm sure I caught from a former roommate I visited on Saturday. She's a dear friend, though, and as I've gotten sufficient work this week, I don't mind taking a day or two off to get well. It was worth it.
On Sunday we had the E.L.'s over to watch the Super Bowl, and this was a special one for Mr. Wonderful and myself. I have developed an irrational superstition that the Giants winning the Super Bowl is somehow a good omen for me, but not completely without reason. See, it was four years ago at a Super Bowl party that my husband and I first spoke to each other and really got along for the first time (we were on an orchestra trip with the school, and spent the first part of the day avoiding each other since we had insulted one another earlier). It was the Giants vs Patriots that year as well, and I was rooting for the Giants. They became my team (though I will always be loyal to the Vikings).
At half-time that year, I had given up on watching the game. I never really did watch football, but attempted to watch it every now and then because my dad loved it so much. I went and found the group of students from my high school, and learned that they were about to play a game of charades. Our orchestra teacher, Mr. Berdine, asked me to "round up" the rest of the students and ask them if they'd like to play. We had one girl on the phone, so I bypassed her and looked for my next target.
And there he was.
Off in the middle of the room, on a couch, away from any other activity, was a blond-haired sophomore from my school who played viola (and quite well, might I add). He was sitting alone and sulking because his ex-almost-gf was there (which would be the girl on the phone I mentioned a moment ago). I invited him to play charades, and he said everyone should move over by him. I told him it's a lot easier to move one person than a whole group, and turned a chair to face the circle, telling him that it was his if he wanted it. I went off to talk another person into playing with us, and when I turned back to the circle, there he was. In the very chair I set aside for him.
We ended up on the same team and had a really good time. The two of us made an especially good team, and that helped us get along for a few hours. The next day, we were practically inseparable, and to our astonishment, we have pretty much been that way ever since.
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