Trapped in my own house

I was not meant to be trapped in my own house. I’m on day three since the surgery, and I. Am. Sick. Of. My. House. I cannot make that any clearer. I’m grumpy, I’m cranky, and I’m tired of this chair and the stupid view out my window and… AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!

I’m at the point of screaming. I told Laurel I was going to go into work just because I couldn’t handle being trapped in the house anymore. She told me not to because I would probably hurt someone. My first thought… “Insanity plea?” 🙂

After dinner last night, I had a fit of uncontrollable must-do-something-itis. I took a walk around my backyard. It was glorious. I then came in and made the kids clean and clean and clean. I even tried to do this dishes, though how successful that was is completely open for debate. Exhausted, I finally collapsed (gently of course) back into that same stupid chair to catch my breath.

But I did something.

It’s hard to say exactly how far along I am in the recovery, but I can promise you this: I’m going to work on Monday. I couldn’t handle not going to work at this point.

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4 Responses to Trapped in my own house

  1. angela52689 says:

    Maybe we could scrounge up a wheelchair from somewhere and take you for a lovely stroll around the neighborhood. x) Games tomorrow?

  2. Emily says:

    Most people would relish the time off from work! But I get wanting time away from the house. The stroll round the neighbourhood sounds nice!

    • daveloveless says:

      I know, right? And I think I would be enjoying this more if it weren’t for the fact that I don’t have the option. Options make for happy Dave even if I would, in the end, elect to make the same choice. Just knowing that I could go do something is enough.

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