House Bound

Well, I am still here and healing [way too slowly] in Southeastern Connecticut. I am being well taken care of by an aide who comes to help two hours three days a week, and a nurse who comes once a week. My staples came out Monday, and Wednesday and Friday I had real showers, thanks to Irene and Sharon, my aides. Alleluia!

 

My PA says the outside is healing nicely, and I've started occupational therapy too, to begin breaking up scar tissue...holy shit from a holy cow! I had forgotten-or blocked-this kind of pain from 3 years ago. There are not enough pain pills in the whole universe to mitigate the pain of breaking up shoulder scar tissue!

 

But mostly I'm bored. I have been "home bound" for three weeks now, except for two outings to the doctors, and one to vote. I can't drive, and probably won't for another few weeks-at least. As long as I'm stuck here, I can continue to receive services here. And even after I can drive, it will be for short distances only.

 

Now I sound as if I am whining. I am not. I am grateful to be on the other side of this surgery, knowing that eventually I will have a life to build, though it is not yet clear in what direction.

 

Meanwhile, after three full weeks of sitting (and sleeping) in my recliner, I have decided that I hate my living room. Well, not all of it. I love the paintings on the walls, one of which is Hope, one of Judi HeartSong's Light Series. She is blue and silver and her eyes follow me when I move around. Her name says it all; the wise, knowing eyes have given me hope enough to move on, time after time.

 

I also love my antiques, an old, handmade sled on legs, which I use as a way too small coffee table, and my Pennsylvania Dutch all wooden pie safe bureau, both of which my mother gave me, along with a huge old copper apple butter bucket. I have filled it with homemade dolls and bears and other stuffed animals.  And I love my fireplace, which now has a propane fire in it, complete with remote control(!).

 

And, although it is way too big, I'm okay with the TV console, which is tall and wooden. It holds a lot of stuff, though, and keeps the corner of the room anchored.

 

That leaves the sofa. It is a perfectly fine sofa, well made, fits the space, a Forrest green, now with a rose slipcover on it for a change of pace, and I've had it fewer than 10 years. I have come to focus all my hatred on this poor, innocent piece of furniture. It sits under the bay window, and every time I look out the window, I am stabbed with my irrational hatred.

 

The sofa came from neighbors when they upgraded to leather.  I know they spent a lot of time and money on finding it. I know it will probably last another ten years. I know it is reasonably stylish, though plain. I know I hate it. unreasonably.

 

So yesterday i asked Peggy to smuggle me out of the house (remember, I'm supposed to be house bound) to the store where i bough my recliner. i had seen a sofa there that i loved, but had worked hard to put out of my mind. it is too blue. it is too rough. it is way too big for my overarmed living room. it has red flowered pillows. it has an ottoman that covers one square mile. It was way, way too expensive.

 

I love it. I bought it all, including the ottoman. I must be crazy.

 

I am going to have to completely rearrange the living room, get rid of some pieces I love (or al least move them upstairs) rehang pictures all over the room, and all at a time when I cannot lift my right arm up to my shoulder without screaming. Although the sofa won't arrive for a month or so, I suspect poor Peg and Robin, who have been my support system throughout, will end up doing all the dirty work!

 

Still, I can't wait. I have only had one new sofa in my life, which I bought as a newlywed. I loved it, but it began to fall apart after about 15 years. I let it go sadly when we were given a secondhand couch by a neighbor. (There seems to be a pattern there.) Though not my taste at all, it lasted until I received the sturdy, innocuous one I have now.

 

Don't you think I deserve a new sofa every 36 years or so? I do. and thank goddess I have nobody to consult or ask permission! I'll let you all know how it all works out.

 

Blessings, Margo