Two Days Forward and One Day Back

Progress is slow with the healing of my rumpus. At least there seems to be progress. I made it to town on Friday and Saturday. It was painful, and I took my cane to use at the Gas Station Chicken Store. There was a cart/walker available at the store, which helped greatly. As did the 4x a day ibuprofen, and the 4x a day acetaminophen. 

Sunday my shooting pain was kept at bay until around noon. I had plans to go to town again, but then a sudden bout of sideways rain and trees trying to uproot themselves changed my mind. No way was I going to try and hobble through that mess, or risk a tree falling on T-Hoe. I sent Hick a text asking him to bring my four crossword scratchers, but it had not yet arrived in his phone when he came through the door 90 minutes early. Saying, "Huh. You must have had quite a storm here."

Anyhoo... Hick offered to go back to town a couple hours later to get my tickets, but I told him there was not enough time to scratch them before Big Brother came on TV at 7:00. I didn't want them after that. It's an afternoon/evening thing, not a nighttime thing.

Hick made the last of his BBQ pulled pork meals. After Big Brother and some weird house shows, Hick went to bed. I went to the kitchen to make soup. It's easy enough. Just open a can and heat, with a slice of bread on the side. It was generic chunky soup, Steak and Potato flavor. With a slice of Honey Wheat bread on the side. It was good enough, and didn't stress my rumpus. I put it in a big cup, and used my special spoon. It doesn't match our set of silverware. It's a bit smaller, and more pointy. Hick brought it home in his lunchbox long ago. One of his co-workers' wives it probably to this day wondering where her spoon went.

Anyhoo... when Hick had come home, I mentioned that later I would try to bag up the trash. You know, thinking that maybe it would occur to him to be a DO-GOODER and say he could bag it for me. Nope. At 11:45 p.m. I was bagging that trash. It hurt a bit to bend over and LIFT the bag out of the wastebasket. We use the big black trash bags with the drawstring, and a tall wastebasket. First I threw away the paper plate that had held my bread and acted as a placemat for my cup of soup. I tied up the trash bag, set it at the end of the counter where Hick would trip over it, and put the cup in the sink with water in it, for washing the next morning.

That's when I noticed my special spoon was MISSING! What in the Hot-Heaven? Where was my special spoon? Oh, no! I had put it on the paper plate, so it didn't clink in the empty cup. I hadn't noticed it under the paper towel on top of the plate. 

MY SPECIAL SPOON WAS IN THE BAGGED-UP TRASH!

Well. You know what had to be done. I untied the trash bag, and leaned over, almost standing on my head, to dig for my special spoon. It took about five minutes, and the reactivation of my shooting rumpus/leg pain to find it. But I rescued it, by cracky!

It's always something.