Miracles Don't Seem So Far-Fetched Anymore

Two years ago I had just dropped out of Vanderbilt. Technically I had taken a medical leave of absence, but I knew I wasn't going back. I'd moved my stuff into my parents' house (mostly their garage), and I think by April I was already talking to Rutgers about transferring there.

Two years ago, I could barely walk to the end of the block and back again; I could barely stand at the stove long enough to make a simple meal. I was in too much pain.

Two days ago, I walked about two miles, grocery shopped for forty-five minutes, lifted weights at the gym, and then came home and spent two hours in the kitchen washing, chopping, cooking, assembling.

I don't really celebrate Easter anymore, but this weekend I was definitely celebrating the possibility of miracles.

To sleep, perchance to not dream at all.

I don't remember the last time that I slept through the night without waking up. I also don't remember the last time I slept without dreaming. I am the queen of dreams: vivid, often violent, frequently lucid. I run for my life, I drive cars over cliffs, I battle boogeymen of all varieties. I wake up exhausted.

Until now. The last few nights I have been dreaming less and less, forgetting my dreams upon waking, sleeping for longer stretches at a time. And I cannot begin to tell you how absolutely glorious it is. My ultimate fantasy is to sleep for eight hours uninterrupted and to dream not at all. Someday.... someday...

A Gift from the Gods

Yes, that's right, I'm talking about Zyrtec. There must be some kind of benevolent god out there somewhere, because how else could we be so lucky as to have been graced with the gift of Zyrtec?

I used to be "Claritin clear," except that that was a total lie. Claritin may have reduced my misery somewhat, but it was no match for Southern levels of ragweed pollen. I was beginning to resign myself - with much sorrow - to spending all of hay fever season in my apartment with the windows closed, for as long as I live in Tennessee. Then - oh happy day! I tried Zyrtec.

Life is infinitely better now. My windows are open as we speak, and tomorrow I plan to check out some easy trails around a nearby lake. (They don't have oceans here, but at least there are some lakes. I'll take what I can get.)

I'm not generally a big fan of pharmeceuticals or the monster corporations that produce and sell them, but I would kiss the inventor of this stuff if I could. Thanks also to Kate for pointing out that continuing to use ineffective medication was perhaps not so productive and that this particular product might be worth investigation. THANK YOU!

Now if only someone made a truly effective remedy for the endless itching due to the twenty-four - yes, that's two dozen - bug bites currently gracing my legs. Apparently they weren't kidding about the bugs in the South.

Rent Them Pants

Outlet malls are the homes of black magic. I firmly believe this. How else is it possible to spend 2.5 hours and slightly less than $84 and go home with 2 pairs of perfectly fitting blue jeans (a major miracle in and of itself), 2 shirts (from a trendy boutique), and 3 Corel cereal bowls (to help fill out the extremely lopsided secondhand dish set your parents contributed when your roommate moved out and took all her dishes with her)?

I called my parents as I was on my way to the mall. My father, unfamiliar with the town of Wrentham (because lives in a different state), thought that I said "rent them." He asked if I would be renting my new pants. I told him I hoped not.