The Roketman and the Haiku
This picture is from our first night on the Haiku - isn't it a sweet little boat? We spent most of the afternoon buying groceries and moving in.
I admit this isn't the best picture, but I really love the lighting.
I do really like this boat -- I want to charter it next year too. But I think I'll buy some sage for the owners to put in it, as soon as I'm ambulatory. Smudge out all the bad spirits, thoughts, whatever. The ritual works.
These pictures are from the night before my accident. awww. I do have a lot of emotion still, and I can't blame them on the painkillers either. I do appreciate the support, people. (maybe I'll blog about how to address invisible friends out there on the web... dear readers sounds too cute, people almost sounds too impersonal, "guys" is sexist. I'll go with calling all y'all "people" until I figure out something better. But feel free to propose something better.)
(did anybody notice how cleverly I slid from talking about something uncomfortable to blathering about inconsequentials?)
Must be bedtime, huh.
Back to reality
If I had more energy, I'd write about the stages of coming back home after a wonderful vacation. I'd sprinkle in a few stages of grief, a few stages of denial, of comparing my real life with the fantasy of being someone who would actually deserve to stay in such wonderful hotels and be treated like a queen...
But when you come home to a house where the cleaning lady didn't come like she was supposed to, it's like the five cats threw a party and invited 892 of their furriest friends to shed all over. And I do mean all over. How the heck did we get fur flurries in our bedroom closet, when they were shut out of the bedroom?
We ended up buying the Transformer-mobile. I thought we paid a bit too much for a used wheelchair, but not when we checked online for the new price. Wowsers.
The trouble? It doesn't fit through the bathroom or bedroom door... Plan B (b as in bathroom? groan...) is the crutches.
I relied on the crutches a bit too much yesterday, what with the cleaning and thinking I could take care of the house, and overtaxed myself. I took a painkiller for the first time in a full week. (I was going through the mail and found the description of what they did during the operation, and it was incredibly sobering. I hurt a LOT more after reading that, and instantly resolved to take better care and
not do that again.)
Tomorrow, we check the thrift stores for a "transport" wheelchair, that will get through doors. And a bunch of other stuff, like seeing how soon I can see my regular doctor, turning in the disability papers, etc.
I admit, I'm in a funk and may not get pictures mounted very soon. Do nag. This is the kind of mood where I need reassurance, that my strange version of normal is appreciated by my friends and colleagues.
