Gimme a break, gimme a break

I bet yall have been wondering what I'm doing now that I'm confined to a plaster prison. It's been reeaaaaaaaaly exciting people, I tell you what. Last week I promised to be a more frequent blogger; then trauma-rama ensues and I should have allllll the time in the world to blog! (As a very unlikely reader pointed out via chat yesterday.) The only problem is, there just isn't that much to blog about when you're in bed for seven days. Nonetheless, I promised to be a better blogger, so here goes.

In the past seven days, I have....

• gone outside four times--I hear it's freezing cold in Boston. I wouldn't know. The few times I've been outside have been for transportation purposes only.
• showered thrice--I have a shower bag. It's good that I have impeccable one-leg balance as I rest my leg on the tub wall and try my hardest to get all the shampoo out of my hair. My left leg is super tired after a shower. Turning is tricky, and dangerous. As is entering and exiting the tub. And crutching on one wet foot. Showers are a neccesary high drama event.
• existed solely on imported food. Last night Julie brought groceries, made tacos, and left me with bananas (my good leg needs to potassium!), yogurt, cheese, rainbow sherbet (by request), and Diet Coke. Before that, it was a Joe's salad (and subsequent leftovers), a 41 ounce bag of Skittles (that's right, you read 41oz.), and a box of Hot Tamales. I know what I like, and apparently others do too.
• had a weekend getaway. I was literally kidnapped by some lovely, thoughtful, wonderful girls in my ward to come spend Sunday after church and Monday with them. We laughed, lounged around, studied, worked, and ate more chips and Skittles (it took a bunch of us awhile to eat that many Skittles) than you can imagine. It was wonderful, and I cried when I got back to my own house.
• put on a bra maybe once. Oh that's right, when I went to church. And for the record, no photo of the Gucci fannypack exists, but maybe I'll recreate the outfit later so you can check it out.
• literally had my blood boil. My inner temperature has permanently risen. I'm always warm. I sleep with a fan on, the door to the non-heated screen porch open, and one cotton blanket. I'm in my room wearing shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, no socks, and am smart enough to realize that's probably not normal given the actual temperature in my room.
• learned that sleep positions can be changed. You think you're only a side sleeper, or a back sleeper. I guarantee if you had a ten pound cinderblock wrapped in melted burlap sleeping with you, you'd learn to adjust too.
• talked to myself quite a bit. I'm alone enough, it's bound to happen. But in all actuality, it's not chit-chat, but usually happens when I'm on my crutches; motivation or warning to take it slow and easy. "Okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay-okay." That's when I'm slowly sitting, readjusting my leg, or trying to prop up my crutches.
• gone over my text limit (1000) and am close to my minute cap. Too many calls to work, insurance, doctor, staffing service, family, etc. Luckily, I roll on Saturday. Apologies if I don't return your text (I'm pretty good about emailing instead); it's nothing personal. I've so appreciated everyone's thoughtful comments and checking-in-ness. It's keeping me sane. I still have 952 picture messages; go ahead and keep those babies coming.
• been hooked up (technologically speaking). You well know my computer has been on the fritz since April. Kirsti, in an act inspired from up above, sent me home with her laptop so I could continue to work from home. In addition to bringing physical sustenance, Julie came and routed a hard line to our wireless router so my Internet connection doesn't cut in and out.

As much as I can get down about the situation--stress about work, traveling, commuting, finances, insurance, cleanliness, I realize I'm being blessed. There are plenty of people looking out for me--who call to check in daily, who email, who IM, who are genuinely concerned with how I'm doing. There are about four girls who are going above and beyond the call of friendship at this point--I'm sure you know who you are, and I sincerely thank you.

For the rest of you! Thanks for your comments, emails, calls, and even thoughts of well wishing! I have a long way to go, but I'm hoping I'm past the worst of it. Enjoy your independent mobility! Your ease in going to the bathroom! Your text messaging and minute plans! Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!