Out of bed at 7 am, pulling on clothes, to discover the dog has soiled the dining room, which is a really strange development for him. I resolve to deal with it when I get back, and run outside into the bomb cyclone and hail a cab.
At the office, they mispronounce my name. Again. When they go to take the extra blood this time, I keep my eyes closed.
"Did you eat and drink?" they ask.
"I drank water," I say.
Prodding at my elbow. They seem to think I'm lying to them, but I'm not.
I get an Uber home as the rain turns to sleet. Back in the apartment I take off my shoes and pull out paper towels and cleaning supplies and I deal with the soiling in the dining room, worrying over the dog. He'd been so chipper yesterday. I don't even remember the last time he had an accident in the house. Did he try to wake us up? Did we not hear him?
I finally climb back in bed a little before 9. I resolve that I will close my eyes, just for a little while. I listen to the sleet against the windows. The dog wagged me hello and then went back to bed too. My husband didn't stir.
At 12:15 I finally awoke, confused, in a kind of jet lag. Everyone was still asleep.
Like we are resting up for the challenges ahead.
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