I'm bored. And lonely. And bored . . .
I can't do anything.
I'm not supposed to do anything active whatsoever. I still am, but activity brings on swelling . . . and numbness . . . and some weird burning sensations . . .
TV sucks the life out of me. It's difficult to read or be on the computer for any length of time because discomfort sets in rapidly. I can't really cook because I can't chop, or rinse, or mix, or knead, or use two hands . . . I'm hungry.
Nobody's here. Beautiful works all day and has the audacity to have a social life at night. Mister and the boys are at a lake in Canada camping. The lake is gorgeous but I'm currently barred from swimming. It would almost literally kill me to sit and look at that heavenly, aquamarine body and not partake . . . So I didn't go. Sweet husband felt so guilty leaving me here, but the packing affair was chaotic such that I was grateful for the quiet once they left. And then five minutes went by and the boredom and loneliness set in. Spitefully.
As per the ER doc's orders, I saw my regular physician today. Know what he had to say? He looked at my X-ray and said, Wow! He had his nurse make me an appointment with an orthopedic specialist. That's all he did for me. No indication of how long this might take to heal. No advice on activity. Not even an exam. Just Wow! and a phone call. Not what I was hoping for. Waste of a $25 co-pay.
I wish my boyfriend would call. He's not my boyfriend. Just my friend. But referring to him in that voice makes me sound all cosmopolitan. Or trashy. Either way, it sounds more interesting than what I have going on here. Especially now.
My friend's existence bears not even a passing resemblance to mine. His world is not boring. His world does not smack of housewife. I need an infusion from his non-childrearing, non-mortgage, non-effing-TEDIOUS life. Especially now.
Quiet, reflective moments drip evenly by. Like Chinese water torture.
Did I already say I'm bored?