It contains my small bed in the corner of the living room, a recliner next to the bed, a little end table with all my STUFF next to the recliner, and a path that seems about, oh, five miles from the living room through the kitchen to the nearest bathroom.
And that's OK, because I can navigate only that much, with help.
This one legged business is tricky. It kinda narrows survival down to the bare minimums. In this case, that basically means eating and eliminating. And here's the funny thing: those pain killers really mess with that second part. It's a fine line on which to balance. I don't want unnecessary pain, but, well, I don't want that other trouble either.
So I'm resting and healing.
I'm grateful for son Caleb who keeps the ice bag on my ankle full, and pulls me up and out of the chair or bed as needed.
And finally, I'm blessed by the generosity of a good friend who called and offered to bring a meal later for our dinner.
Right now I'm simply taking it five minutes at a time. I best be starting that five mile hike again though.
Over and out.