Mum's been home for a month now, and is doing well. (I'd say 'very well' but there is a part of me that is still over-cautiously afraid to tempt the spite of the Universe.) She is still not back 100% but is moving about and even good enough to go out for Dad's birthday the Friday before last, so thumbs up.

It's been a weird, hectic but also strangely slow last few weeks. Months, even. Ever since 2010 rang in, things -- Things -- have somewhat unravelled a bit. I started questioning this whole Uni-thing, and therefore this elusive delusion commonly referred to as 'career' (again), getting annoyed with everybody, blaming it on the weather, realising it'd be lots simpler if it was just the weather, and subsequently dropped out half of my classes. May came along to see me briefly running away to visit my best friend for some much needed time off before enrolling in a crazy full-time schedule to get back into Things. Mum's operation was only supposed to be just a blip, not even big enough of a deal to register on these Things i had to worry about, if only to reschedule my study location so i'd be home a bit more to take care of her "swift and steady recovery". Right.

The first week she got back was a bit of a blur. There were visitors, lots of visitors. And i remember being grateful and touched, but also vastly annoyed. Here was my mother incapacitated and not looking well, the house in disarray and me running around trying to keep things in order because i know she hates it when things are messy, let alone having other people witnessing this mess. My dad helped the best he could, and did plenty (he cooked) but it's been a tough year on my dad. Without wanting to get into details, least of these is seeing him... getting old. My dad has always been quite fit and active. Not active in the sense of sporty, but in a rather literal sense -- always moving about, fixing, cooking, sewing, doing whatever it is that needs to be done around the house. And if not for our house, then for my sister, my aunt, some family friends, anyone, really, without any thought about whether it was a 'manly' thing to do or not. His fierce reliability and capability are, despite our recent differences, something that i have always respected and been proud of. He just turned 62 last week and though i still can't quite fathom the number, he is generally still quite capable. But like i said, it's been a tough year... and it's starting to show. In little things, like not knowing what to do next in the kitchen, leaving cupboards and refrigerator doors open -- and less little things, like leaving the stove on after removing the pot... I've seen him losing his calm, senselessly rambling, talking about his fear over losing mother with other people, something that is so out of his taciturn character--even when done with us, not to mention to casual friends and family members--that i'm unsure how to feel about it, scared or touched. I've realised that he can't do laundry or fold sheets to save his life, something i haven't noticed before that have strangely made me very sad. Seeing my mother sick was terrifying enough, having to realise that my once capable dad is also rapidly aging is just a little more heartbreaking than i'd like to take, thanks.

Anyway. I've also noticed how i am quite capable to take care of other people and things (notice, not Things) when need be. And not only capable, but that i quite enjoy it. I'm not entirely sure what that says about me (future Housewife of Mtl?!) but i think after feeling aimless for the past months, doing something that is immediately useful feels rather good.

There are other things, i mean Things, on my mind right now, that i'd like, i mean need, to write about but this'll do for now. I have Work, i mean work--no, i really mean Work--to do.