So this morning I had my 3rd doctor's visit this week (3 different doctors for 3 different reasons.) I have a large scratch across my eyeball and am now wearing a contact lens coated with antibiotic ointment and am sitting on the couch with an ice pack on my lower back and a hot pack on my left hamstring. After hiking countless rocky uneven hillsides in Greece during Mr. Ex's nuptials, I returned to The States and and sprained my right ankle while walking from my studio to the residence hall one night in Virginia. Then 4 days after I got home with a still swollen and sore ankle, I got up off the couch a little too abruptly and strained my left hamstring (probably because I had been babying my right leg.)
About a month after Mr. Ex left me, I looked into some assisted living condos in my hometown in Iowa on behalf of my mother. The place was lovely. You got to go on entertainment outings and get a free haircut in the in-house salon every month as part of the purchase price!!! And the price contained one less zero than the townhouse I was in the process of buying in So Cal. Gee, I thought, maybe I should buy one for myself. That's right--for hundreds of thousands of dollars less, I could have had a ride across the street to the hospital at any hour of the day or night.
But I believed my children when they told me I was too young for assisted living. They're probably right, but I think I might need a very devoted boyfriend.
Well, gotta run. Need a fresh ice pack. Have to run the hot pack through the microwave. Must limp upstairs to the bathroom and put in more eye drops.
Oh, and I gotta arrange for my birthday present to myself. Private salsa lessons.