I have one working arm right now…good times. Let me tell you what that does to me…someone who normally runs her entire life at 100 miles an hour. It stops me dead. Completely stalled. Parked. Hubs has taken over everything…laundry, dishes, dog, dinner, my entire to-do list. I sit here like a backseat driver with no actual access to the wheel. This is not a good look for me. However comma, I wanted to write something this week. Although it’s proving painful to type, here I am. Perhaps I should do a bit about what not to do whilst unpacking your camper. This is why I like having “people” for these sorts of things. Bait Boy = no smelly fish fingers. Cabana Boy = No sweating or working whilst relaxing. Is there such thing as a “Camper Boy?” If so, please send him my way. I can’t be trusted to unpack.
So now my job is barking orders from the couch. “Can you open my wine?” “Can you fold the laundry?” “Can you unload the groceries?” I always envy the women who can pull this off sans injury. Who are these men that allow themselves to be ordered around? I didn’t take that class apparently. I’m more of a “I’ll do it and make you feel guilty you didn’t think to ask” kinda gal. I prefer independence to high maintenance mmmkkkay. My husband has been amazing. He understands I am a lunatic that will try and sweep the floor with one arm bcs crumbs trump injuries. He just grabs whatever I’m doing and rolls his eyes. I think he secretly appreciates I am not sitting on my fat ass whining. Rose’ helps. You know I ordered up a case from the Target online app right? Brought that shizzle right to the car and put in my back seat. Service! I also made a stop at my fav wine store for more civilized selections but I had to get out of the car which seemed like a lot….mmmkay.
It’s been a week since I fell. You would think I would be back on my…. arms by now. Not so much. I have made progress. I can brush my teeth, wash my hair and wipe my ass. Skys the limit. We hit the road again in 2 weeks. I pray my appendages are fully functional. Until then, pray for my husband sisters. He is doing the work of a small army affectionately known as “Me” while I supervise from the sofa like middle management. I know at least 1 one of us is enjoying it.
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