Tiny Harmonica Solo!

Today I hung up clothes and packed them on the closet rack, wrapped presents, and worked on the general cleaning of my 12×8′ bedroom. You may or may not be surprised at how much crap one can fit in that space.

Now I am sitting here to let my body readjust to the world; the more I do the more directions I turn, and after a while sometimes it feels like I short circuit something. Which is an appropriate metaphor, as many (myself included) like the overall comparison of MS to a short in a lamp’s cord [“Demyelination produces a situation analogous to that resulting from cracks or tears in the insulator surrounding an electrical lamp cord.”]

I could dread the next week or so of holiday celebrations, but to what end? I will spend more of my life feeling naturally how many would pay dealers on street corners to feel for a few hours. In order to minimize whatever possibility exists for me to exert control over my body, I have to remain as zen-ishly positive as I can.

And it is not to say that I do, in earnest, dread holiday celebrations. I am extremely lucky to have a family unit that remains whole and loving — no present is greater. I get to introduce the boyfriend to the family menagerie that is our Christmas. A large tree, eight adults, a five year old and a five month old is a better introduction to my family than a wedding or funeral (through both of which so far he has been steadfast with me).

In fa(c)t, instead of even considering being on this site, I should be scouting recipes.

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