I’ve been up since 4 a.m. even though I went to bed at 11:30 with a half a Xanax. Nothing was going to keep me sleeping. Not after that steroid shot.
After the root canal yesterday, Dr. Jimmy gave me a shot that he said would help keep the pain to a manageable level. Oh, and by the way, it might cause a burst of energy in the evening. What the? What kind of burst of energy? I asked. He just smiled and said, “You’ll know.”
Six hours later, I was like Ed Grimley on speed.
For instance, I made homemade refried beans. I drained them from the crockpot (they’d been cooking all day), threw them in the food processor along with all the spices and such, started pulsing it, then the food processor stopped working. Oh well. Transferred it all to a bowl. Dug out the hand mixer. It didn’t mash it the way I wanted. Oh well. Dug out the blender. Dumped in the bean mixture. Started pulsing. Wasn’t blending. Too many beans. Took half out. Blended in two smaller batches. Perfect. Threw the beans in a Tupperware and into the fridge. Cleaned up the crock pot, food processor, mixer, blender and the ten bowls I messed up, all without so much as a swear word! In real life, I’d have been pretty ticked by the time I got to the blender.
I let the dogs out. When they came in they tracked in mud. Oh well. I washed the kitchen floor.
Talked to my daughter on the phone while doing dishes. I think I let her talk, too. I don’t remember. I wasn’t hungry, but I put some frozen soup on low on the stove and started singing and dancing to “Free Ride.” That song hasn’t made me happy since, what, sixth grade?
I’d skipped my workout in the morning because of the tooth debacle, so I thought I’d get on the elliptical. Then I remembered it was broken. That’s probably a good thing because I probably would have cranked that baby up to level 15 at a 9 percent incline for an hour. Can you image what my thighs would be saying to me today?
I felt 20 years old and invincible. I felt thin and nimble. I could have brokered a deal on the stimulus package and read “War and Peace” in Russian. It was like I’d slept in a Holiday Inn Express or something.
I suspect that steroid could also be an aphrodisiac, but Larry was really tired last night.
It’s now 6:30. I’ve already written a blog for Refuse to Regain and this one. I gave pieces of my book a look-see and started compiling a list of questions for my agent. I’ve read the news and looked at the weather and a video for a core exercise I’d like to try. I changed the photo on my desktop, put away the clean clothes from Sunday’s laundry, and wrote an entry on my maintenance support group chat site. I read three blogs.
I was hoping I’d be sleeping again by now, but that’s obviously not going to happen. It’s already 50 degrees outside so I think once the sun comes up I’ll go for a walk. “Dr. Feelgood” is on the iPod. I’ll listen to it and think of Dr. Jimmy and his magical shot and wish for the day when whatever it was that made me feel this way could be added to a daily vitamin. Well, in a lower dose. I don’t think I can take another day of a million accomplishments. I really do like to sleep.