Every post-surgery day brings a new first or two. Today, I napped in my own bed. It wasn’t an easy nap with ponies-and-bonbon dreams, because this was only the second time in eighteen days I tried stretching the rearranged ligaments in that direction. But: I was able to sleep a bit in my super-more-comfy-than-the-couch bed and it’s only a matter of time before I’m spinning the spinner and going full-metal Right Foot: Blue and Left Hand: Red.
Yesterday’s firsts included washing my own lower legs in the shower and walking up a step with my right foot and without thinking about it. Saturday, I walked around the house most of the day without my cane because I am unbelievably brilliant at healing up. Yes, I’m seeing these ordinary events as proof that I AM A SPECIAL SNOWFLAKE.
Pete went grocery shopping this morning. I demanded a mop and the good almond floor cleaner so I can do small household tasks and/or polish my chimneysweep/Tevye’s daughters routines for the talent show down at the Jiffy Lube. You can’t let those skills slide.
New bathroom mirror. Note the gouge in the wall made by its predecessor during its tragic fall from grace and a plate hanger.
On Friday morning, I found my bathroom mirror propped up in the sink, which was not at all where I left it the previous night. Curiously, the plate hanger from which it had been suspended lay on the floor like a chalk outline. The mirror itself was not really a mirror but a drinks tray that came as part of an overly festive glassware set, but it looked positively forlorn with large cracks down its glittery back and sad little chunks torn out. I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so it lay on a kitchen counter until Pete Harrrumphed and took it out to the trash. Of course, I couldn’t replace it with a regular old bathroom mirror. That wouldn’t be silly enough, but this Pier One holiday plate and a lightweight plastic charger is practically its own punchline.
But wait – there’s more! Turns out a superstorm, a Nor’easter and Thanksgiving weekend were not enough. South Jersey also had a small earthquake. I do not live in South Jersey; however, as far as I know, my bathroom mirror was the only damage.
DIY projects are fantastic,cheap fun until you become obsessed with good gear. Not to worry, though, because no matter how bizarre your interest, someone got there first and figured out how to make a tool you will only use once while your credit card is still smoking. My mother’s grandmother made braided rag rugs that interest me now as artifacts of a time when no one could afford to waste anything. I’ve been pondering that some.
People make knitted bathmats out of cut up t-shirts.
People make yarn to knit with out of strips of fabric they scavenge from torn or old fabric.
To knit with fabric yarn requires the largest needles available, probably size 50.
More than 10 fabric stitches fall off size 50 needles.
And next thing you know, you’re here.
It’s the personality crisis your therapist won’t see coming. Or going.
Believe it or not, I am considering buying those. My brain is full of soda bubbles: this is not thrifty. This is the opposite of thrifty! But this old-fashioned gadget might be a very thrifty tool for turning out cat blankets a whole lot faster.