Starting Monday afternoon, I began to feel that all too familiar feeling in the back of my throat. The swollen, scratchy symptoms that mean a sinus infection is soon to arrive. Unfortunately, I'm no stranger to these symptoms. After my doctor looked at my chart yesterday, I realized I've had three sinus infections in one year. How is that fair?
With an infection of any sort, most surgeons don't want to operate on you. Especially when you're going to be put under for the procedure, so for me that meant I had to cancel my tumor surgery. I'm a little disappointed. As disappointed as anyone could be about NOT having surgery. To have the surgery, I've really had to psych myself up. And now, my sinus infection has psyched me out.
Since I won't be knocked out for four to five days, I've agreed to something else that requires me to psych myself up. ... an interview with The Times. The last time I was in the paper it was more on my terms.
I was the interviewer, not the interviewee. And although the cheesiness of my pose and that little black box I'm leaning on may haunt me until eternity, not to mention that blond hair, I get an even larger pit in my stomach with the thought of having to answer questions. From a reporter. On the spot.
And then there's a picture. Special request to The Times: can we restart that old, blurry printing press? Pretty please! The new press is so unforgiving. And then, I wonder what am I going to wear. Starting this weekend, I believe I'll begin photographing myself in all my favorite outfits as a trial run.
Ty and I are going to be interviewed on the compromises newlyweds face when they begin living under one roof. I feel like Ty and I had a slight advantage. We were moving into a place that was neither mine nor his, but ours. We pretty much started with a clean slate.
But as any wife will tell you, there are always compromises to be made. Ty's millions of t-shirts dating back to the early 90s. The mounted duck sitting in my living room. The yellow lab who's probably the cause of my sinus infections since I'm more or less allergic to her. The couch that his former roommate's date puked on one night (This item was ditched just weeks ago. We put it on the curb and no one picked it up, so it must have been as bad as I imagined. And once you get married, flipping the cushion is no longer an acceptable cleaning method.).
And in case you were curious, Ty hasn't had to make any compromises on my behalf. I'm flawless (wink, wink).
The things we do for love!
I need to get my wheels turning so I can sound somewhat thoughtful when answering the reporter's questions, so tell me, what compromises have you and your spouse made around the house along the way?