Following a minor surgical procedure on my leg last week, I pondered what life as a 'temporary' lady of leisure might be like.
In my imagination, I envisaged poring over a magazine, curling up on the sofa with the cat to watch films and maybe taking an afternoon nap while the rest of the family pandered to my every whim.
Naturally, that wasn't how things turned out.
An hour after returning from hospital, I was already bored from sitting on the sofa and took myself for a gentle stroll around the neighbourhood while still under the influence of a sedative. Several of the neighbours probably suspected I'd taken to daytime drinking as I slurred my words and stumbled a couple of times, my leg still numb from the local anaesthetic.
The following day I was home alone. Sadly, the local anaesthetic and sedative had worn off. I was sore, but bored. I took myself on another walk, wrote Christmas cards and removed the cat from her favoured position on top the mound of paperwork I'd decided to sift through while watching a movie so bad, I'd normally have switched off after five minutes. I also tackled the laundry and cooked dinner to relieve the monotony.
On Friday, we had a new boiler installed. I made endless cups of tea for workmen, limped all over the house and barely sat down all day. By the evening I was ratty, desperate to leave the house and the bruising on my leg was fifty shades of purple and black.
At the weekend, I was in desperate to resume 'normal life' despite the umpteen walks, visits from friends, being preoccupied with the boiler fitting and countless inane household tasks that didn't require standing or sitting with my knee bent for prolonged periods. I contemplated escaping in the car. Only it hadn't been spotted since the op as the girls knew I couldn't drive and had 'borrowed' it (again).
By Monday, I'd decided that I needed help with the chores piling up at home. Mr A helpfully offered to clean the kitchen. Good, I thought and promptly disappeared to let him get on with it.
Two hours later he was still engrossed.
Curious to know why cleaning the kitchen was taking so long, I popped my head around the door.
'Nearly finished?' I asked. Before spying what he was up to.
'What the heck are you doing?' I snarled, without allowing him time to answer the previous question.
'Just rearranging some stuff in the cupboards,' he replied.
He was. All the crockery was now helpfully placed in the glass cupboard. He had removed several shelves from another cupboard and placed all the glassware where the crockery once lived.
'Grrr,' I said. 'Put it back.'
'Why? It looks better like this,' he added
'No it doesn't. If you don't put it back, I'll just get the stepladder out tomorrow and do it myself.'
'But you're not allowed to do anything like that after your op,' he added.
'Exactly,' I said.
Mr A spent the next hour returning the kitchen to its original state in silence.
I poured a large G&T before turning to leave. Reminding myself that it was for medicinal purposes and my family had driven me to it.
The following day I cleaned the entire house and concluded that being a lady of leisure wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
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