So due to circumstances that are NOT MY FAULT, I'm now on doctor-prescribed bedrest to maintain a stable state of eye.
Last week's surgery to relieve my eye pressure worked a little too well, and my eye now resembles a slowly deflating water balloon. That makes it vulnerable to bursting blood vessels and other gross stuff, so now I'm on hourly drops and the no-stress-no-strain unactivity plan. I feel totally fine, we're still stocked up from the Unitarian casserole brigade and Henry is remarkably self-sufficient, so here I recline.
A confession: I've always envied people on enforced bedrest. It sounded so lovely to this stressed-out and slightly compulsive working mom. A nice stretch of not doing anything and not feeling the least bit guilty about it. I'd be entitled to read, knit, watch movies, get people to bring me stuff, surf the interwebs, etc. But here I am on the first morning of it and I'm antsy and restless, of course.
One problem is that I'm congenitally incapable of watching TV during daylight hours. (Exception: baseball.) I just can't bring myself to do it. It's just a short step from that to 500 pounds and a crane hauling me out of my bedroom window. So that option (which includes movies) is out. NPR, podcasts and audiobooks are better, but that's because I normally do something useful while listening. However, talking heads do start to drone after awhile. And local radio = no good.
Not that I consider myself energetic, believe me. I don't chomp at the bit to hike/bike/climb/ski stuff like most of my friends (who are all a little tightly wired IMHO). I'm known more for hanging out at home: knitting little morsels, solving sudokus, creating recipes, digging in the garden, fixing endless broken crap, wrangling the pets and haranguing the child. High-energy puttering, my old roommate called it. I even meditate for crying out loud. However, now that I'm parked on the reclining side of the coin only, it chafes.
Clearly I need more practice.
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