Thursday evening. I'm back on the screened in porch, this time sweating while the sun goes down. I spend my days now rotating between the womanchild's bedroom, the living room, the kitchen and this porch. Before it gets too hot, I'll take a walk. I hit the fifteen minute mark day before yesterday. Yesterday, I found out that was a bit too much right now. I was weak and tired all day. Today, though, other than just a little soreness on two of the incisions, I feel fine enough to wonder why I have to be off work until October. I know something will come along to let me know just exactly why.
I'm just bored out of my skull, and it bothers me that my biggest accomplishment in the last few days has been that my digestive system is now fully functioning again. I've satisfied a long denied emotional need for some time to just do nothing, and I'm ready for more. I'm on my fourth book, and I'm halfway through the second season of The Tudors. I won't even mention how much time I've spent on Facebook. There are six more days until I can drive again, and I'm hoping I can hold out that long. I think this would be easier if I were in my own home. There are a lot of things I could do there that wouldn't violate my lifting limits, but I would have run out of food days ago.
This is a good lesson in patience and gratitude. I'm just not in the mood to be a good student.