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Autism: The Way it Goes

19 Aug

 

When I went to bed, and when I woke up, I knew this was going to be a busy day. An anxious day. An exhausting day.

“When _______ come into town, are they going to want to stay with us?” I asked my husband a few days ago. “I don’t know. I never thought about it,” he answered. “Probably.”

Details. I need details. Who is coming? When are they coming? How many will be staying here? How long will they be staying? Where will they sleep? Where will my husband sleep? (he tends to leave for another room sometime during the night.) Where will I put the litter box?

Come. By all means, come. Just… I need the details… and time. Time would be good.

So maybe they will be coming tomorrow, or maybe next weekend, or maybe not at all, or… So I’d better be ready for tomorrow – and then clean everything every day from now until the end of summer, right? It isn’t that my house is all that messy… most of it anyway.

But then one room upstairs is used for storage – and the cat’s litter box. I don’t know where else to put it, because I can’t handle walking on litter – and one of my cats won’t go downstairs (it took a year to come out of her bedroom, it is not like we will train her to go downstairs in a day or so.) Plus my son’s cat won’t let the others downstairs. We have a bed in that room, but we can’t put someone in there with the litter box in there. What other option is there?

Finn

And then there is my new dog. She uses a potty pad. I had never considered using one before. The thought never even crossed my mind. It isn’t that I mind that she uses it, and I really saw the wisdom in it when it poured for the first few days after we got her, and taking her outside… well, she is so tiny, and gets cold really fast. Anyway, she does go outside most of the time – just not always. So when she started going in one spot in our dining room, the pad was put there.

Well, that had to be moved. I knew it from the beginning, but how? And where? The only place I could think of was my bathroom – a small powder room about 4 foot square. There was a place for it in there, but I had to move some ceramic tiles that were piled there collecting dust.

Only when I got in there, I saw my loose medicine cabinet with a mirror… “Didn’t (my son) want a higher mirror?” I thought… so everything got pulled out of that, and piled on the bed. The mirror was moved. My son’s bathroom then had to be stripped, cleaned, and rearranged. Then my bathroom…

What was I going to do with the tiles? I brought them home from the thrift store a few years ago thinking I needed new flooring in the kitchen, or the bathroom. There wasn’t enough for the kitchen, so I brought them to the bathroom – and many, many times tried to arrange them in a way I could use them in there. The thing is, some needed to be cut to fit. I do not know how to cut tile, don’t have the right tools if I did, and am incapable of asking for help to complete my idea. So there they sat.

Knowing I had a lot to do today, what did I do with those tiles? I sat for hours in that little bathroom, trying to rearrange them to fit. Somehow. Suddenly it was after 1pm, and all I had done was carry a mirror downstairs. In my mind I kept thinking, “What am I doing? I don’t have time for this.” Yet I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t. Fixated and perseverating – for what? I knew I would end up moving them to storage in the end, and nothing would be accomplished, yet I kept going.

Well, it is now 4pm. I started all of this at 8:45 this morning, and have been really busy all day. Yet what has been done? Three bathrooms cleaned. Two loads of laundry. One blog. So much for being prepared for guests.

 

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