Yesterday I was useless. My legs were stiff from strength training a little too enthusiastically, so I tried not to stand up unless absolutely necessary. I watched television and worked on a cross-stitch project I’ve been doing off and on for several years.
Other stitchers know what I mean. The big-ass project that you work on for a while, then you get tired of it and put it aside in favor of something smaller and more quickly finished—or in favor of another, equally large project that has different colors you’re not sick of looking at yet. I might go from cross stitch to Hardanger, or from aida to linen, or just mess around with plastic canvas. But dammit, I have to do something while I’m watching television, I can’t just sit there. Television rarely captures my attention enough to watch it without something in my hands. Plus I tend to enjoy the arts and crafts type stuff.
My eldest observed my melodramatic groans and whines whenever I stood up or walked around, and later when I told him I didn’t want to stand up again just yet, he went to the closet and brought me a blanket. It was a bit hot for a blanket, but I accepted it anyway because it was sweet of him to try to do something for me.
The spousal unit is out of town until Thursday; he was going to come back Saturday, but the bastages cancelled his flight and all the other ones were booked and overbooked. So he’s just going straight on to his next job site. Sigh.