Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Shock is a funny thing. . .

Since the fire, my shock with things has worn off, but ever so often, I go back into it. This is not a bad thing because I am still coherent and fully functional, I just slip into a partial reality where I deny that I lost everything. The other night it happened again.

I was looking for something and couldn't find it. Cloud asked what I was looking for and I said I needed a pair of shorts and a tank top-- I knew they were around here somewhere. She said, "They burned up."

I smiled at her, no I had seen them just the other day. I told her which pair of shorts they were. She laughed and asked if I knew where my red sandals were to go with them. Yes, they were in my closet. She knows better than to make gutteral noises or to make fun of me and just said, "I hope you find them!"

My husband said, "They burned up. Here's my card. Go to Fred Meyer and buy yourself a new outfit." So intent was I that they were in my room or downstairs that I shoo'd him off, they were here!

After 20 minutes of rumaging I came upstairs, "You know, I think they burned up! May I have your card so I can run up to Fred Meyer and pick up a couple of things?"

No one thinks anything of this. (I did the same with Christmas decorations.) Before the fire struck, I had boxed up my summer clothes in RubberMaid boxes and they of course melted, so with many of our new things in similar boxes, my association seemed recent. It was thought that I was in serious shock because I seldom turn down an offer to buy new clothes, but I really just wanted to get to my yard work (haha-- and that was another casualty of the fire!)

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