Day Twenty Three: Victory Is Mine

My new ottoman. It looks brown in the pic, but it's a deep red.
This is the ottoman I bought yesterday on a whim.

"Shopping is good for the soul"--I think I saw that embroidered on a pillow once. And if it's good enough for someone to put in on a pillow, then who am I to disagree?

I went shopping because my soul needed a little distraction yesterday. A horrible night and lack of sleep will do that to a person, plus I had all this anger and sadness that threatened to spill out of me. There are only so many hours in a day that a person has a right to cry, and I had filled up my day's quota early on. So out I went, searching for clothes and accessories, kitchen supplies and garden tools, and anything else that I could tell Dave "we (I?) really REALLY needed."

That's how I found myself in a Marshall's/Home Goods store, coveting this pretty red leather ottoman, a random piece of furniture that does not go with anything in my house. I had to have it. After withstanding the flirtatious slacker boy cashier (who unsuccessfully tried to get me to open a store credit card), and hauling the ottoman into the back of my car, I giddily drove home sitting high and attentive in my seat, feeling like I vanquished a thousand knights and conquered a medieval fortress. 

But then I pulled my car up to the curb in front of my house. And that's when I realized my folly.
The 22 steps in front of my house. 
I have stairs, lots and lots of stairs.

Grief is a funny thing. It can sometimes obliterate a person's will to do even the smallest tasks, like getting out of bed or taking a shower. But it can also give a person an amazing amount of resolve. And because grief has been my one defining quality these days--and because I choose to be affected in the latter manner--I became stubborn and all my muscles stiffened. There was no way that 22 steps would prevent me from getting that darn ottoman into my house! And in a few minutes I had that thing up the stairs and through the front door.

So I'm sitting here on the couch, typing on my computer, and resting my feet on my new ottoman. It's a better day today and I am Richela the Conquerer. 

I think that my Mom would have been a little horrified at my act of stubbornness. But I also think that she would have been proud. These small victories are what I need to do for myself. Let's just hope that next time it's not something bigger or heavier than this damn ottoman.