No Can Do

My radiation burns have quit surfacing, the most painful ones have healed, and my energy is starting to slowly ramp back up. (For now at least - I'm told radiation fatigue can be a tricky beast.) I'm starting to wrap my mind around my reconstruction surgery, scheduled for the middle of October.

Which has tossed me back into nesting mode. If I'm going to be discombobulated for six weeks, the things must be finished first!

I started with my donation piles which have magically replenished themselves since I did a similar exercise in March. 

I gathered all the electronic waste and happily carted it to its recycle center. I arrived home, looked around, and found a stray old light fixture which hadn't made it into the pile. *sigh*

I gathered all the hazardous waste and happily carted it to its recycle center. I arrived home, looked around, and found a stray bottle of power steering fluid which hadn't made it into the pile. *grrr* (and how did I end up with a bottle of power steering fluid? I topped off the fluid in my Mustang zero times in 19 years...)

I'm beginning to think the Universe is trying to get a message across to me. Something about delusions of control and perfection. 

A part of me, deep down, despite all evidence to the contrary, is convinced that if I do all the things perfectly, everything will be OK. If the house is clean and the closet sorted through and the leaky drain is fixed and the things in the piles of clutter are dispersed to their proper homes and I hold my mouth just right and don't forget to reseed the grass in September, both Kate and I will return to health and have many more good days.

I am so scared to know this is not true.

I want guarantees. I want control. I want to be able to plan with confidence for tomorrow and the tomorrow after that.

Sorry, Buttercup. No can do.

The best I can give me is a reminder about the margarita truck. It's not just me who has no guarantees, who can't control life's path.

I can plan, I 'just' need to know the plans have an asterisk next to them. 

And, I have today. What will I plan to do with this one precious day I have?

Stop. Breathe. Live today.