In the days following this blog post, I started to feel better – almost as if acknowledging the Bad allowed me to release it and move on.

Or so I thought.

It was a weird few days –

It was a short work week, with Monday and Tuesday off to celebrate Christmas (and that previous weekend effectively being 4 days long – nice).

The full moon was Friday night (which always affects me, amps me up just a bit with that increased pull on the liquid in my body).

Then Saturday, I had already planned to go see my Dad’s house – for the last time it would look anything like it did when I lived there in my teens.  Dad is moving from the apartment he’s lived in for 35 years.  The apartment I lived in several different times during my teens when I was bouncing between parents, trying to find my way.  Dad’s apartment building was sold and he’s being thrown out.  We figured this would be the best time for me to go say my goodbyes to the house before it didn’t look like Dad’s anymore (we were able to wait until I was out of radiation for a bit).  It also turns out to be almost a year to the day that we lost Grandma (Dad’s mother) (see “I Missed You Last Night Grandma – Single Malt Scotch and Election Returns“).

Add to that, we have Grandma’s unveiling coming up in about a month.  Just thinking about her and saying goodbye to Dad’s place reminded me that I had to do the same to Grandma’s house already last year in May (the Only house she and Grandpa had had during my entire life and so where our whole relationship took place), a mere two months before being diagnosed with breast cancer.

It was an emotionally-charged day, to say the least.

I had also not seen Mom since my last week of radiation, and had managed to procure and wrap gifts for Mom and Dad, so, as long as I was heading out to the Westside, I might as well deliver the last of the gifts.

Had lunch @ Mom’s – gave her her Holiday Gift.

Went over to Dad’s place – took pictures.

Went over to Dad’s new place – it’s really beautiful actually and I think he’ll be really happy there.

Headed home by way of a couple of knitting shops – acquired what I was looking for and fell in love with a new yarn (look for upcoming knitting posts – yep, I’m a multi-talented, or just maybe undecided, blogger).

Got home just about when Hubby did (he’d gone out doing his own errands) – we shared our various purchases and decided to head back out together to make an adjustment to something.

Had dinner and went to sleep.

Woke up Sunday morning, coffee in bed, hanging out – waking up, had No motivation.

The energy of the last few days was gone.  Did my morning cleaning up and realized the hormones had crested.  Hm, didn’t even pay attention to that one coming.  But all the energy of the last few days was gone.

Turns out those few days of energy were just PMS and a full moon (plus emotionality about Dad’s move).  Now we’re back to desperately seeking naps.

I am seeing small improvements I think I can rely on – I’m feeling like doing more at home, and I’m more okay with doing an errand on the way home from time to time now.  I think the last time I cried from sheer exhaustion was actually my last week of radiation therapy – a whole 3 weeks ago!

I figure at this rate, I’ll start to really reliably feel like myself about the time my Reconstructive Surgeon runs me over again.  Let me explain – she is beautiful, sexy, extremely talented, experienced, has a great eye and great hands, is amazingly good at what she does . . . and that bitch is a Mack Truck in surgery!

She’s also my way of making lemonade (with vodka, thank you very much!) out of this bushel of lemons raining down on my head.

And as Scarlett said “Tomorrow Is Another Day.”