Restless legs

I'm a tv commercial today. I have RLS--restless legs syndrome. During the night I hardly slept because of constantly twitching, wiggling, and moving around, with that strong urge to move my legs. Now today I'm a groggy witch. My right ear is also stopped up, which makes me even grumpier. We had to get up early to take Bonnie Blue in for her check-up (well-baby check-up), so of course, I had just managed to get to sleeping soundly when hubby's alarm clock buzzed. And buzzed. And buzzed. This is a man who is capable of figuring out the most arcane electronic devices, yet he is bumfuzzled by the simple things like alarm clocks. He can't seem to figure out which button to hit to turn the thing off. Now, if this were a new clock, it would be different, but he's had this clock on his bedside table for four or five years.

He also refuses to learn how to set up an answering machine. Somewhere along the way, in our marriage of 36-plus years, some activities became "mine" and some became "his." Just yesterday, I sewed a button back on his shirt for him. I don't mind doing it. I like to sew. And he can do it, but he just doesn't. He once bought one of those gizmos that re-attaches buttons with some kind of clip, but that's hardly a classy solution for shirts with French cuffs (his favorites). He can tie a tie (even while driving a car), but he can't tie a bow. Maybe if we'd had daughters, he'd have learned to tie bows.

I'm feeling, as my late mother would say, "shot at and missed, shit at and hit." There is much to do today, tomorrow, all the days remaining until I teach on Tuesday, but I know myself well enough to know that I'm useless when I feel like I do. Right now, I can barely hold my head up, and it's clear to any reader that I am certainly not channelling my witty side. Maybe later. Or tomorrow. Dr. S.