Sunday, June 9
When I got home from the hospital, Ed and Doug rearranged our living room to make it most convenient for all my needs. In this time of recovery, that means that my world has become reduced to a six-foot wide circle. Most everything I need to get through the day, with just a few exceptions, is found in this span. Take a tour with me.
Here’s the coffee table, and I find it impressive how much stuff it can hold. There are my reading glasses (two prescription pairs, one for books, one for laptop; there are also a couple of drug-store variety readers, too) ), and the laptop charger. There’s my water bottle (best to keep all liquids in sealed containers after what happened with the kicking-of-the-juice experience in the hospital), and normally there’s also a coffee or tea travel mug as well. There’s a physical therapy stretchy band. You’ll see that there’s a small pharmacy of drugs, along with a pill cutter that the last nurse I had in the hospital deeded to us. You might notice the package of pitted prunes: directly related to all those meds. ‘Nuff said. Plenty of remotes for the TV and stereo and fireplace (and yes, it’s June, but it’s also Colorado, and between the fact that it’s only 53 degrees outside today and I spend a bunch of my time with ice surrounding much of my left leg, I’m always cold).
There are piles of books and magazines. I haven’t yet had time to file away the books I’ve finished here on the couch. Those include “Old Man on a Bicycle” (wouldn’t recommend it), “The Storm on Our Shores” (a book about the battle for Attu during WWII by Mark Obmascik, one of my favorite authors, who just happens to be local and just happened to write “The Big Year” and just happens to also be a birder), “The Feather Thief” (oh Good Lord, this book pissed me off royally), and “Come Rain or Come Shine” (the latest in my reading of the Jan Karon Father Tim books). I have next possibilities stacked up, also: too many to mention. There are New Yorkers I’m working to catch up on, and a Yoga magazine that was a gift and is definitely necessary but I just haven’t gotten around to exploring it yet.
There’s a pair of binoculars; who doesn’t keep a pair at their side at all times? Sadly, the view from my couch doesn’t afford me a wide variety of birds, as the feeders are all in the wrong position from here. There are place mats (we eat many of our meals here) and, of course, serviettes (we may be barbarians when it comes to where we eat, but at least we’re semi-civilized about it). There’s a get well card (with chickadees on it, what else?) and a few pieces of mail and catalogs hidden in the stacks of books and magazines.
There’s also a single harmonica in its case; the rest of my set and all my harmonica music is in a pouch under the coffee table. Lest you think this too pretentious, keep in mind that I just started harmonica lessons at the beginning of the year and I’m still struggling to play clean, clear single notes. Ed has progressed far more rapidly than I have, and is bending notes reliably while my attempts to bend sound like sick squirrels. Also under the coffee table: my laptop is normally stored here, alongside the cardboard scratching pad that Tookie (my faithful 11-year old kitty) likes to tear up. Tookie likes to bring me his brush (that’s the purple thing that we call “the purple hand of love”), so it’s here, too. Seriously: this cat picks up the brush upstairs and carries it all the way down here (meowing all the way) and drops it at my feet when he’s determined to get brushed.
On the other side of the couch - just barely within my reach - is the ice machine. We borrowed this from Doug, which was a good deal for us and generous on his part, but it’s been a challenge. It sprang a leak after a day or two, hence the fact that it now sits in a plastic tub as a preventive measure. Ed and Andrew fixed the cause of the leak, and it worked like a champ for the next two days. Ed even got a smart plug, hooked it into our smart speaker so I could tell Siri to turn on the ice machine, which she would graciously do, and then she would automatically turn it off after twenty minutes. That was a sweet advance until, after just another day, the power pack on the thing died. Ed’s at Best Buy right now working on getting a replacement power pack. In the meantime, in the photo you’ll also see one of the old-fashioned ice packs that we cycle through the freezer. There’s a flour sack dish towel also hanging on the back of the couch: used to protect my leg from frostbite when I don’t have on long pants. The photos don't show well some of the most critical of my necessities: the wedge to elevate my knee, all my pillows, and the fleece blanket that is my constant companion.
What else? Oh, well duh! There's my iPhone, but it's always in my pocket or in my hand. How else can I keep up with NY Times crossword puzzles? Pretty much the only necessity missing from my reach is the bowl of chocolates. That’s okay: it’s a great motivator for me to get up and move outside of my circle. But for all that, there’s very little I need that I can’t reach from the center of my world.
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