I’ve gotten a lot of e-mails, IM’s (and my apologies to those who tried to IM me when the computer was up but I wasn’t), messages, etc that all run on the same theme. Every single one of them says, usually in the first sentence, Don’t overdo. You’d think everyone was expecting me to try to go bungee jumping the day after surgery and try out for the Olympic weight-lifting team the day after that.
I’m not. Really. I haven’t even tried to do laundry or cook dinner yet, and have been considering getting dressed generally optional. I am spending much of the day in my recliner (which my cats like) or asleep in my bed (which they don’t, because they aren’t allowed in there.) I don’t even have the inclination to do anything terribly active. My mind is starting to plan what I want to do next, but planning is as far as anything is getting right now. It’s not enforced inactivity, which would indeed drive me nuts and which I might try to defy. But neither is it “I feel fine, so why on earth shouldn’t I”….fill in the blank. What I feel is tired. That is quite natural, and I know it. So I’m sleeping a lot. And since I’m only on restrictions for another week, it should be over by the time it starts to chafe.
See? I can surprise even those who’ve known me for upwards of 30 years. Not only can I be sensible, I can actually sit still!
It’s not a question of whether you can be sensible. It’s a question of whether or not you choose to be sensible.
And I haven’t even known you for thirty years yet.
Of course, she doesn’t mention the electrified leg irons.
Wick
Dearheart, I expect you to be as sensible as I am inclined to be myself in similar circumstances. Wherefore the close monitoring.
And, uh – How long have I known you now? Or do we even want to go there?
Let’s just leave it at “as long as either of us can remember”, shall we?