Relatively mundane tasks, given important meaning.
This morning, the Thriller is feeling exceptionally peppy. So peppy in fact, he wouldn’t allow me to help him cook one of his favorite meals (chili) in preparation for company for lunch today. His voice is stronger right now, whereas usually it’s little more than a whisper. He ate a big breakfast, and when our industrial-model Bunn coffee pot cracked, he went downstairs, unearthed the Keurig, got online and ordered a new carafe, and ran to Hawkins to buy some K-cups so we could finish our morning coffee-drinking routine. How about that, all by 10 a.m.?
These are the days for which I’m eternally grateful. I know there’s a rough road ahead, but we just discussed this morning about how easy it is to be placed on an arbitrary timeline or someone’s scale of what should happen, when in fact, it’s no understatement to say that everyone’s cancer is completely different. We’re in it to beat this thing into submission.
Are you having a good day? Hope so! Things are easy like Sunday morning here on sunny Sandusky Street.