I gingerly placed my legs beside the bed and slid my feet into my warm scuffs, draped my canary yellow bathrobe around me and proceeded to climb the stairs to the living area- at road level. Just to explain, we live in a house built against the side of a dyke. Our bedroom and en suite bathroom are downstairs for the simple reason that in the summer it is cool and in the winter we don't hear the patter of rain or rattling of tiles when storms hit. It took all my newly gotten energy to reach the top of the stairs. It felt like I had reached the summit of some high mountain. I puffed and panted, my legs trembled and according to hubby dearest I looked like something the cat dragged in. And boy, does that give one a boost to the morale. Mind you, as I passed the mirror I had to concede, he was right.
My intention was to cook dinner- yes you can laugh and think me naive. I really thought I would be able to. During my 'good' hours I managed to get quite organised. Once I approached the kitchen bench I realised I was fooling only myself, dragged a frozen package out the freezer of some unidentifiable left over meal and proceeded to re-heat this for my sweetheart. Not that he can't cook himself. But I felt a need to 'do' something making my presence worthwhile. It had taken so much effort to get here- now I wanted to make it happen.
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" Wouldn't it just be beter if you went back to bed?" said hubby, " you are bound to feel beter in the morning".
I conceded defeat. Descending was less stressful than ascending and before I knew it my body enjoyed the comfort of a warm bed - thanks to my electric blanket. My thought was to turn my thoughts to God and prayer. I do believe I can ask for anything- and often do, I also thank Him for all I have- just not his time! I believe my prayer cannot have lasted long- as I quickly dropped into a deep and temperature nagged sleep. When I next awoke it was 3 am and I was shivering.
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