Tom and I were staring at our bank account the other day, wondering how to slide through until the beginning of the next month.

Like a lot of you out there, we’re definitely a paycheck to paycheck household. Sometimes we don’t quite make it from one check to the next, but we always survive.

This last time, though, Tom softly suggested, “Well, maybe I should sell my guitar.”

When he said that, I felt my heart drop.

Tom has three guitars, actually.

One he’s had for as long as I’ve been alive, literally. Its his 6 string acoustic that has been through every step of his life with him. His dad made a beautiful wooden case not too long ago so Betsy (his guitar) can proudly be displayed.

Another is a 12 string electric / acoustic. I bought Tom this one for Christmas a couple years before the accident. I think Tom pretty much freaked out when I gave it to him… and, if I do say so myself, it was a pretty awesome gift.

The third guitar is a black 6 string electric / acoustic that Tom bought himself shortly after he and I moved in together. Since he bought this one himself, he feels it is the most ‘disposable’ of the three.

“We could use the money, Sheila,” he said to me.

I shook my head no. “We’ll make it just fine till next payday. Don’t worry about it.”

“But, I can’t play it anymore. Its just taking up space.”

After a couple more exchanges similar to the ones above, I finally said, “I’m just not ready to do that.”

I can’t imagine selling Tom’s guitars. Ever, really. I know that they’re taking space. I know that he won’t be able to play them again. But, they’re memories – tangible, touchable memories. I can’t imagine just selling them to some stranger or something like that… Who knows how they would treat them!

I know this may not be completely logical to some people.

I mean, I understand its only a guitar.

But, its Tom’s guitar.

And, its meant to be Tom’s guitar.

And, I’m not ready to be done with it yet.

Needless to say, I ended that discussion promptly.

The guitar will not be sold yet.

Because I’m not ready.

I think Tom is actually relieved that I’m not ready.

I could tell he wasn’t really ready either.

I gotta lot of crap.

Tons, I tell you.

Can I get rid of any of it?

No. (That’s the simple answer.)

So, I finally thought of an idea to help create a little extra space in my tiny little world.

Okay, I didn’t think up the idea. Otherwise, I’d be a millionaire. No, instead, I helped the inventor become a millionaire by buying this:

vacuum bag sucker thingee that makes things smaller to store

to make these easier to store:

heavy thick blankets that we love but take up too much room

and these too:

even more blankets, cuz we need 132091238 of them

So, you gotta cram your blankets into the bags, and then ya gotta find the hole, like so:

the hole to suck out all the air in the bag

And, then this happens:

you are now witnessing the sucking action

Finally, it ends up like this:

airless sucked bags - mucho smaller-o

Which, makes Sheila’s small little world a little more spacier. Okay, notsomuch. But, it did help with some of the storage issues I was having.

Final product?

130123098123 sucked up blankets

Now I wanna put everything into vacuum bags and suck all the air out!! Its entertaining, I promise you!

PS – Sponsored post? Really? Not at all. Not enough people read this blog for someone to pay me to post about this crap!

So, obviously, I had to try it out. I think its blurry, though. Oh well. Its not exciting anyway…
more…

I told Tom and Paul yesterday that I was going to Tom’s mom’s house today to get my hair colored at 2 pm.

And, at about noon today, I reminded them again.

Coloring.

Today.

2 pm.

So, why is when I got back from Tom’s mom’s house that it took Tom approximately 30 minutes to mention my hair had changed colors after I got home today?

And, Paul?  Oh, he just noticed… uhm, nearly five hours after I got home.

Boys.

Geez.

Edited to add the photo… Sorry, Blue.

ps – my hair is naturally dark dark brown, if that helps ya figure out the change here.

Hope yours are as precious as this:

I finally figured out how to take a picture of the mysterious roaming rash that has no known rhyme or reason to any aspect of it… that I can find, anyhow.

Wanna see?  Its not gross.  Its just a bumpy rash.  Which itches like absolute hell if I don’t notice it immediately and douse it with triamcinolone acetonide cream (whatever the heck that stuff is!!).

Anyhow – if you remember a couple posts back, the nurse practitioner I see asked me to try taking a photo of the rash so she could see it when its inflamed, or whatever it is.  Of course, I finally get the photo on a weekend.

Oh well.  I’ll see about stopping by the office on Monday.  Hopefully there will be no charge to show her a picture!  Maybe I’ll call and see if I can email it… sending an email shouldn’t cost any money, right?!

Rash photo = below the fold.

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After running all my errands today, I called Tom when I was on my way home.

When we were done with our normal conversation, Tom asked, “So, can we go geocaching today?”

I paused, and thought, and answered, “Well, I’m not saying ‘no’.”

The day was perfect. It wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t to windy. There wasn’t a threat of rain, and it hadn’t rained so recently that Tom’s chair wouldn’t be able to travel through the grass.

I didn’t have to work.

I felt okay. Not jumping up and down for joy, but not ready to curl up into bed as soon as I arrived home, either.

So, once I got home and resituated, we loaded up into the van and headed out to a local park to find a couple caches.

Geocaching is always a team building exercise for us, as I would assume it would be for anyone who goes out with more than one person. But, obviously, with Tom being a wheelchair, being a team is a little more important.

And, uh, sometimes we’re less than perfect at being a team.

Our communication skills are sometimes a little … strained, also.

Needless to say, sometimes I forget that we’re supposed to be having fun. Go figure.

But, somewhere during the process of finding the geocache, and seeing Tom enjoying himself while being outside and away from the confines of our yard, I remember that its not about geocaching as much as its about enjoying our time together.

Corny, yes.

But, its the truth.