This was an eventful week. Things started to build on Thursday when the FedEx Freight guy brought this pallet of 13 cartons of gear for me to unpack, price, and stock. The pallet was too wide to go in either the front or back door so he nestled it up to the back door so I could unload it from the inside because it was raining. I only got a little wet.
I always thought it'd be glamorous and dramatic to loll around in a cast. It isn't, it just hurts like hell. But I did get a red cast. What color did you think I'd pick? I got a walker too, I figured it'd be easier than crutches because I can let go and it'll stay right there.
This is the last prose prompt writing for a while because it's April and April is Poetry Month so I'll try to crank out some pomes to put on here.
April 3--Turnbul/Boudreau, Pasture Fence & Building. Legend says if a horse farm's fencing is painted white it means that the mortgage is paid off. I don't think that's true. Pap and Miss Louella/s place had the prettiest white fencing around the paddocks and I know for a fact that their mortgage was nowhere near being paid off. My cousins from Buford, my brothers, Aunt Pitty's boy, Son, and I spent weeks every summer frying our brains putting another layer of white paint on those rails. Pap's hired man, Cyrus, painted the buildings with a crew of casual laborers but it was the grandkids' job to keep up appearances on the fence detail. There wasn't enough lemonade in all of the state to quench our thirst when we painted.
Well, it's taken me part of yesterday and part of today to get this blogging blogged. It's time to go prop my leg up again. It hurts less when it's propped up. Ice helps too. I don't think Durwood will be pursuing a nursing career anytime soon and we're only 24 hours into this adventure. And he's finding out in a quick hurry how much I do around the house. I feel bad that I can't do anything but I can't. I was smart enough to find a shoulder bag that I can sling across my body to carry things around with me and I'm nest building on the loveseat, coffee table and the floor around it. Don't break any of your bones--ever. Trust me, there's no glamour to it and it's nothing like it looks like on TV, even with the coolest red cast in captivity. Oh, and I had DS throw the offending slippers in the trash today. That was the second time they'd flung me to the ground and I'm through with them. *dusts off hands*
--Barbara
2 comments:
Sooooo glad to read your blog and know you're home. Just settle in to your nest on the loveseat and knit, read, blog and DO NOT TRY TO GO DOWNSTAIRS!!! Love those little premie hats.
I know just how it feels, Barbara -- I was in the same boat after my hip replacement surgery on Jan 27. Finally graduated from the walker to a cane about 3 weeks ago and got cleared to drive. Hang in there!
Post a Comment