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This is exactly why no form of Biblical studies should be taught in public schools, even as an elective.
Last night I fell down. I tripped on my living room rug, shattering a glass of ice wine and ripping the hell out of my left knee. Doing anything other than sitting still in the recliner in the living room hurts a lot.
Which means the kids have been stuck at home all day (usually we go out and do *something* -- the pool, the beach, the library, something) and are at each other's throats. They keep yelling at each other and then yelling "Mom!" and all I want to do is go to the doctor and get some heavy duty meds and go to bed.
This is not fun at all.
Which means the kids have been stuck at home all day (usually we go out and do *something* -- the pool, the beach, the library, something) and are at each other's throats. They keep yelling at each other and then yelling "Mom!" and all I want to do is go to the doctor and get some heavy duty meds and go to bed.
This is not fun at all.
I had the best of intentions. Really.
Jay has a hard time when he gets back from the Arctic. Things are too noisy, too chaotic. I really wanted to give him breathing space, so he could readjust.
Yesterday was just crazy. I tried to make a nice dinner, but the kids were loud, and I got distracted and dinner was late, and James was in full falling apart teenager mode. And then....
I was walking across the living room floor with a glass of ice wine in my hand. I don't even remember what I was going *for*. My feet got tangled up, either in the edge of the rug, or a toy or *something*. I fell, hard, twisting my knee and ankle. (I also shattered the glass, so I guess I'm lucky I didn't cut my hand to ribbons.) Jay helped me to bed.
It hurts to walk. I can't walk more than a very short way. I can't bend the knee, I can't flex the knee. Getting in and out of the car is excruciating. (It's my left leg, so if I absolutely had to, I *could* drive.) The doctor said, if I'm lucky and didn't do serious damage, it will take about six weeks to heal, with two of those weeks being "acute." (I have to get an MRI later this week.)
Jay has to take up the slack. Make dinner, take care of me, take care of the kids, go to work. Aside from the practical problems (I am going to need to ask friends to take the kids out -- they can't sit all day and watch television. No pool! No beach! No Great America! No library! Someone is going to go postal, other than me, who is a sure bet), there is just the added pressure.
And I feel horribly about it. I know I didn't mean it, I know it was accident, but damnit, I hate feeling like a burden, and that's just what I am right now.
Jay has a hard time when he gets back from the Arctic. Things are too noisy, too chaotic. I really wanted to give him breathing space, so he could readjust.
Yesterday was just crazy. I tried to make a nice dinner, but the kids were loud, and I got distracted and dinner was late, and James was in full falling apart teenager mode. And then....
I was walking across the living room floor with a glass of ice wine in my hand. I don't even remember what I was going *for*. My feet got tangled up, either in the edge of the rug, or a toy or *something*. I fell, hard, twisting my knee and ankle. (I also shattered the glass, so I guess I'm lucky I didn't cut my hand to ribbons.) Jay helped me to bed.
It hurts to walk. I can't walk more than a very short way. I can't bend the knee, I can't flex the knee. Getting in and out of the car is excruciating. (It's my left leg, so if I absolutely had to, I *could* drive.) The doctor said, if I'm lucky and didn't do serious damage, it will take about six weeks to heal, with two of those weeks being "acute." (I have to get an MRI later this week.)
Jay has to take up the slack. Make dinner, take care of me, take care of the kids, go to work. Aside from the practical problems (I am going to need to ask friends to take the kids out -- they can't sit all day and watch television. No pool! No beach! No Great America! No library! Someone is going to go postal, other than me, who is a sure bet), there is just the added pressure.
And I feel horribly about it. I know I didn't mean it, I know it was accident, but damnit, I hate feeling like a burden, and that's just what I am right now.
Vicodin is a very good thing indeed. And I can drive! I can barely hobble to the car, and even with the Vicodin it hurts to get my leg inside the car, but once in the driver's seat I'm okay. Except, I shouldn't really be driving with Vicodin... oops.
A very good question.
Note: the post in question does not have spoilers in it (at least for anyone who has read the last four books, and even then just a very very very minor one) and so far neither do the comments. But the other posts in the community do.
Edit: I forgot, the community is friends-locked only to prevent it from showing up on friendsfriends lists and spoiling the book for people -- very considerate. The question posed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
linithiliel was:
( The question. )
Note: the post in question does not have spoilers in it (at least for anyone who has read the last four books, and even then just a very very very minor one) and so far neither do the comments. But the other posts in the community do.
Edit: I forgot, the community is friends-locked only to prevent it from showing up on friendsfriends lists and spoiling the book for people -- very considerate. The question posed by
linithiliel was:( The question. )
.