Last night I spent a couple of hours by myself for the first time since my foot surgery a little more than a week ago while Cliff went to watch a hockey game. I figured I had things under control. I sat for an hour watching Netflix, but then realized it was past supper time and I was hungry. So I rolled myself into the kitchen to rustle something up.
My house is historic and has many distinctive and charming features -- another way to read that is "old, with uneven floor heights, lots of stairs, more doorways than necessary and tight spaces." It doesn't have that "open concept" one hears so much about these days. It's something of a challenge and in all of the back and forth I tend to run over the toes on my good foot. I did that a couple of times.
Then I found some leftover chili in the fridge, but had trouble getting a bowl down from the cupboard because I couldn't maneuver the scooter close enough to reach it easily, and the cupboard door swings the wrong way. But I worked that out. I put my chili on the stove to open the microwave, and the top panel on the microwave fell off (why it happened at that moment I have no idea -- probably a test), knocking my bowl of chili onto the floor, splattering my legs, my scooter, the cupboards, etc. I wheeled away from that mess and reached for the paper towels and somehow managed to also knock them onto the floor. I could reach down far enough to retrieve the bowl, the paper towels and the spoon, but I couldn't quite reach the spilled food. That wasn't a big problem because while my back was turned the dogs swooped in and before I could stop them, did a pretty good job of mopping things up. I suspect I will pay for that later.
But you know who will really pay? Cliff, because he's going to have a hard time leaving my side again for the next month. "For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health," and in foot surgery.
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