1. I'm not alone anymore. MT is officially back from his backpacking adventure. The trip didn't go exactly as they planned, but he figures they walked around 130 miles over the past few weeks. Neither MT nor Kevin are very beat up. MT says he feet are sore and he thought he might have hurt his knee yesterday, but he didn't. He says he really enjoyed the break and is ready to get back to work on Monday.
T will be home, for at least one night, on Saturday. We haven't received word on when he can move into the sober living apartments. I hope we can get him in there on Sunday, but we'll see. I think the treatment center he is working with is very good. My only gripe is that a lot of things have felt very last minute to me. Maybe it's just because I like to know what's happening and have a plan in place more than one day in advance. More to come...
2. My left shoulder. Back in February, I injured my shoulder. It was my fault, and the dogs were involved. I was holding them while I was sort of crouched down because a human and her dog were coming toward us. I stepped off the trail and held my dogs, but my center of gravity was all off and when the dogs lunged, as I knew they would, they pulled me over, jerking my left shoulder in a painful manner. I thought it was a sprain and that it would heal over time. It hasn't. If anything, the pain is worse. It used to be that I would feel pain in the shoulder only when I moved it a certain way, and that way wasn't necessary, unless I was doing the chicken dance, so I wasn't too worried about it. Now, however, the shoulder hurts at some point every day even when I move normally. For example, when I put on my backpack, sometimes I'll forget and it hurts my shoulder. I'm not talking about a little twinge. I'm talking about wince-inducing, eye-watering pain. I am no stranger to pain, friends. There are times I would put the shoulder pain at 8 or 9. Fortunately, it is short-lived, but damn, for those few moments, it's really bad.
I was at the doctor yesterday and mentioned the shoulder pain. He ordered an X-ray for me - oh look, arthritis! - and suggested I go ahead and get an MRI to see if there is tissue, tendon, or ligament damage. He suspects something is going on with the rotator cuff. At this point, I want to know what is happening, so I'll schedule the MRI. More to come...
3. Calendars. Lastly, on a lighter note, can we talk about calendars for a minute? This has been on my mind for awhile. You know how our standard U.S. calendars start the week on Sunday and end on Saturday? Look at your calendar. See, there's Sunday on the far left and Saturday on the far right. In my mind, this means the week starts on Sunday and ends on Saturday, since we read from left to right. Right?
My planner calendar, which is from the U.K., is different. The first day in the monthly calendar is Monday, and the last day in the row is Sunday.
At first, this bothered me. Why would they do that? I remember asking my mom about it, and she said it is a European thing. After all, Saturday and Sunday are the weekend, so why wouldn't the week end with Sunday? It's totally accurate! My week doesn't start on Sunday in real life, so why does it start on Sunday on my U.S. calendar? Now the U.S. calendar bugs me, and I have way more of those. It is a mystery. That is all.
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