weekend

I'm still having my weekend, unfortunately.
Saturday and Sunday were great, though, in that 'on a productivity high' kind of way. By 10 a.m. on Saturday, I had cleaned out all the old Lizzy clothes that had been cluttering the "guest room" (a storage room, up until now)... and by 2 a.m., Matt had cleaned out the downstairs, unfinished storage area, which he has longed to convert to a weight-lifting area. Sunday, after the best, most poignant one-hour church service I have ever attended (sermon text found here), we moved bunches of stuff into our massive (for a townhouse) attic, and out of our hair until it's needed again -- until another baby comes along, or until Christmas, or until one of us is in the mood to dress up like Snow White or her evil stepmother queen again.
I've never been a stickler for cleanliness, despite my mother's excellent example, but since moving into our spacious (by comparison) townhouse last February, we've really taken pleasure in keeping it looking nice. It feels good to take care of your stuff, you know? Maybe part of it is the difference between renting and owning. Or maybe it's an area of my life that I can manage to keep up with, and have a definitive way of measuring that I'm doing so. For whatever reason, it sure feels good to have those two last unpacked areas mostly tackled. Those last areas that lurk in the back of my mind, keeping me from feeling totally relaxed and finished.
Of course, there's always painting/front porching/fence, er, ing/back porching to do. But, well, that's construction stuff. Man's work, if I may say so. My conscience can rest easy as to those things.

It felt weird, though, to be doing such trivial stuff, and finding satisfaction in it, when we have wonderful friends going through an incredibly painful time. To say the least. To the three or so people who read this blog and don't have the great good fortune to know this couple well, please keep praying for them. I don't even know what to suggest that you say. Just, keep praying.

Last night, to keep me a bit humble, Lizzy threw up twice -- once in her bed, once in mine. At least I was in the cleaning-up groove, though there's nothing like undigested spaghetti in your bed to get you up and moving at 12:30 a.m. regardless of your mood.
So, we stayed home today. I don't know if she's better or not. She seemed pretty happy until after her nap, and now she feels warm and listless. It's never easy to see your baby not feeling well. Or your friends suffering. Be it an affliction minor or major, it's awfully hard to watch. But, of course, it's all we can do. Watch, and pray. And hope.