Today (er, make that yesterday- just saw the time) was nothing but one distraction colliding into another. It began quite productively by registering for next terms class, but when I returned home it just went down the tubes. The lady at the registrars office said I should apply for special services due to my ADHD, and while I cringed at even the thought of it Husband talked me into at least looking into what they have to offer. The way I see it, if I can't hack being in classes and taking exams like the rest of my peers then perhaps I don't have any business in my field. Nobody ever claimed Geology was easy. However, while I may not have a 4.0 it is still above a 3.0 and this was accomplished without any special accommodations. In addition, I managed to successfully get through classes with a B or better where I hadn't as of yet taken the prereqs.
But I digress.. To appease Husband I went in search of the paperwork from my original diagnosis of ADHD. In locating this paperwork (finally found it in the master closet) I realized Husband has slowly but surely taken over the closet. I'm not sure what first caught my attention to this fact, as I generally don't notice such things, but it was so obvious I stood there and laughed. Then went and got my iPhone to take pictures for proof! The two pictures were taken of opposite sides of the closet. The upper one is "his" side, but the picture to the right is supposedly "my" side. The ONLY thing that is mine in either of those pictures is the black trunk on the upper left is filled with geology gear I use when I go to the field. Everything else is his. LOL. This just cracks me up! I thought girls were the closet hogs?!
After that was accomplished I spied an old box with all the letters I had sent off to Husband while he was in Iraq. I started reading through a few but had to quit after awhile, as it wasn't really a place I wanted to return to in my mind. I mainly just looked at the script and remembered how I had used pen and ink to write to him during that time. It was easier because you didn't have to apply as much pressure and as prolific as I was about writing to him I was starting to get blisters. I generally wrote a letter a day, and they averaged about 5-7 pages. It was a run-down of everything we had done for the day and anything else I could think of -even to the point of movie reviews. We would email as well, and he called once a day around 11am (most days unless he was on a convoy). I felt quite lucky compared to most wives at the time who rarely heard from their husbands. Even though we had both venues to communicate (email & phone) I always wanted him to have something from the mail guys when they came around. I know when I received one of his letters in the mail my heart would jump a beat and I would cloister myself off to a quiet place (usually the backyard with the lulling ocean waves in the backdrop) to read.
We sent packages back and forth to one another and in the ones he sent to me were beautiful marble vases. One of them, a covered bowl, arrived crushed but it had been wrapped in bubble wrap so well it still held the original shape. So I bought some super glue and pieced each of the little parts together until it was whole again. It took a few tries because it would collapse when I started getting to the concave portion of the bowl, but in the end I managed to get it to work and the glue-job wasn't very noticeable. The lid didn't fit as nicely, but I didn't care. I still have that bowl- which surprises me because it has survived 4 moves since then. After I was finished upstairs I brought the paperwork down to my office (at least that is still all mine:) and began to wonder what I had done with the letters Husband had sent to me. I had to dig around through a few boxes I still have yet to rummage through from the move here last summer (hey- after 4 moves in 4 years you'd be a little unmotivated to unpack too, trust me! :) but I located the box of all the letters Husband sent to me. They are so like him- all the same envelope, ordered, structured, tidy. Everything I am not.
I looked about my office and had to sigh to myself for still having boxes on the floor with books I haven't unpacked and put away. My bookshelf is a total mess because I pulled out a bunch of books when I was researching my latest finds - I'm too embarrassed to take a picture of my living room coffee table with all the rocks and books strewn about. Even my rock hammer sits there next to a rock I cracked open on the living room floor (but vacuumed up the evidence before Husband could tell what I had done). Usually I do that outside, but it was late. And dark. And cold. And inconvenient. He doesn't ever get angry with me, but I feel bad when I've let my rocks cause such a mess of things. Which brings to the point that I had wanted to get them put away today, but obviously, despite my best intentions, that did not transpire. I am not even going to try and project when I may get all these tasks in my mind to completion, all I can say is I'll get to it when I get to it. Hopefully sooner than later. :)