Among The Not-Rich

 Every so often something comes along to remind me that not being rich has its benefits. Most of the time voices from all over work to persuade you that more money is a good thing, that spending it on whatever you want at any moment is wonderful, and that access to any heart's desire, however fleeting, is ever to be desired. In this country it's typical marketing, backed by the idea that the more you have to spend the more valued you are. Or important. Or something, presumably wonderful.

It's a rare day when a different reality sounds good. I'm not talking about not having enough food, or a home to live in of whatever variety appeals to you in terms of size and possible mobility so long as it is safe shelter, or even not having the price of necessary medical care or education. Sometimes an inexpensive life is just more peaceful, so long as you're not worrying about the true necessities.

We just got a reminder of that in our email boxes today. The mobile home park we live in is located along a lake. There are blessings and benefits to that. For many of our neighbors it means a high annual fee in addition to lot rent to lease dock space during open water season, which is paired with a requirement to relocate your boat whenever ice is a factor. A significant chunk of property here is storage for dock pieces and winter (tarped) boat storage. For most using it, life is made up of two seasons: boats in, boats out. We have no boat so rarely pay attention except to notice changes, the same way we note flocks of birds on the water or flying over it, or colors of the sky reflected in it. Steve can fish regardless, having a favorite spot along his favorite river and a permanent fishing license he earned the hard way. He'll fish from shore near the launch area, with a board on the sand with ridges to keep his folding chair from sliding into the sand and/or tipping, and will love the time spent regardless of catch or company. For him it involves planning and weather, not huge expenses.

So the note in our email caught our attention without being significant in our lives. All boats currently out at our shore docks must be pulled from the water and parked elsewhere (list of qualifying or verboten locations) by early Saturday morning. You will be notified as to when they may be returned. Failure to follow involves consequences (listed).

Now we haven't been here too long, so this is a first for us, even though it doesn't involve us. It turns out to be a climate thing this year. It's been too dry - not that inexperienced eyes might have noted how low lake levels have become. After all, we've had rain on a regular basis, and if I'm watering the gardens it's because of keeping new plantings healthy until they "take', not basic survival.

Now I'm not sure just exactly what we will be doing this coming weekend. For me it likely involves a reliable chair and one good arm pulling weeds. Add hat or sunscreen. For Steve likely some cooking shows on TV or another of his E-books on his laptop. It won't include boating, or fishing (due to crowds on weekends), or much in the way of hard work since my arm still needs to stay in its splint and Steve's hip hasn't been replaced yet. For sure it won't involve dropping whatever weekend plans there might have been to pull a boat out of the water and wait for permission to put it back in.

I did however just receive permission to dig out a tall bearded iris I planted decades ago, and bring it plus offspring over to this newer house's gardens. It's still thriving and blooming, and a fairly unique brassy/bronze color that's always stood out. It's a bit too early yet to dig,  but not too early to make plans for it. Good thing we don't have to move a boat, eh?

We're just not rich enough for those problems.

Early Iris This Year

These have varied and checkered histories. I had my own real gardens to plant back in 1991 back in east central Minnesota. Some things got overdone, some were whatever was cheap or available, some were things I grew up with, or missed because I hadn't. An example of the latter would be blue violets. We left a mobile home park with a tiny garden patch where violets thrived from my unique neglect to a huge yard with no restrictions as to what went in. One of the last things I swiped from the first garden was a small clump of violets. Aside from Arizona, I haven't lived without them since. Many of my neighbors where we are now consider them weeds, and the management hires weed killers to keep the lawns grass... mostly. Score around here has the violets winning, even if mostly in marginal beds where flowers and bushes are encouraged. Statuary as well.  Even various windmills and such. Just keep the weeds out. So in my spring border beds you will see blue violets and scillas announcing their survival of another winter, just ahead of crocus and daffodils, themselves ahead of tulips... and so it goes.

Some of the hardy survivors of that early garden were iris. With permission of the new owner, I dug out a few favorites. The two most removed were a short deep blue iris formerly next to some boulders in front of - from the street - a clump of paper birch. Those were the first bloomers this spring among my iris.

Being the hardiest of the transplants, they were well picked through when this year's new bed was planned. Single plants were often in clumps of five or six tubers, so I marked them while blooming and divided the largest of the clumps for a new home, leaving others around the outside of the raised ring to catch up next year... or try. As low as these are, it may be easy from this photo to note them growing in their own flat leaf foliage as well as clumps of daylilies. Those will be a topic for later this summer. 

I knew I wished more colors in future years. I'd have to wait for more iris to bloom, and should with lots of unique iris foliage in the garden, but meanwhile, a bit of light one-armed work while healing should be good for me, physically and emotionally. So for a while activities combine iris hunting, either at local garden centers or from favorite online sources, with an eye to new varieties as well as photo documenting older ones as they bloomeso I could make fairly intelligent decisions as to where to move things to and from through fall.

The most prolific iris I liked was a reliable pale blue bearded one. It had managed to spread over the years out into the grass and started to surround a huge boulder along the driveway and near the street. Digging up these occurred in three batches, and possibly this last time has finally removed them from the original yard, as desired. One person who was going to be given them as a gift - three different times - allowed them to die twice. A few weeks ago was my last attempt and so far has proven - with some help from her own family - to be successful this time. So far. ( She wonders why I don't share more plants with her.) Note the color is pretty uniform, the beard pale yellow, the petals not very ruffled. I just got an offer from a neighbor to take a few off my hands once she gets her own place for them, but a summer wedding is higher on her agenda.

 

The next iris from last year's transplant to bloom got a lot of attention, even more so than last year. I've also seen it under two different names in the catalogs. I bought this as "All Night Long", referring to the deep purple nearly black in tone, or as close as iris gets. The buds are close to black, giving it that name, but the similar one is called "Sharp Dressed Man". I presume that name comes from the bright orange beard both have. I have no photo with that second name and can't compare them to see if they seem identical or not. I suppose if a plant patent is in dispute, somebody can fight it out. There well may be several ways to similar results.

I have no name for this bloom, spectacular as it is in the garden. It does not match any of the descriptions of what I bought last year. The magenta is vibrant, the center of the falls a very rich blue which matches part of the blue in an otherwise gold and white beard. This was taken its 2nd day when light improved for shooting but petals faded a bit. Either way it was a huge "WOW!" and new stems remain so.

While the last one took our breaths away, it brought us closer to that part of the garden where this one was hiding low. Again, unnamed and undescribed in previous purchases. I found nothing similar in catalog shots. The white and blue are stark contrasts, and it took to the second day of shooting this one to be able to get the tiny yellow ruffle at the top edge of the standards to become visible to the camera. Wrong light? Need more computer foolery? At least there is a hint of it even if more shows to the eye. At least the beard shows yellow if the camera tilts enough to show it better, but that risks falling these days.

The abundance of light blue iris in the garden, like the upper left corner intrusion into this photo, did an excellent job of disguising this gem from us for a day. We kept waiting for it to color up, until good light showed us it had! And I had a name for it: Silverado! It's nearly white, not quite blue except deep where petals leave their stem. I'd been waiting for two years to see this one, and here it is. As differences dawn, we noticed that the petals have more frilled edges than any of the blue iris. Beards are more white. This stalk is full of growing buds, like the one popping up from bottom left, and it will carefully be divided in future years.

Again it was a different iris which pointed us to another one being something other than what we had been looking at already. That burgundy one left us thinking this was another of the same, just somehow lesser.  With a better view, I'd say not lesser, just waiting for differences to show up. Right now I'd say it looks like a sleeping kitten in its standards, and maybe a deep purple pillow supporting its head... plus a very bizarre collection of orange teeth! I'll be keeping a camera on this one and its subsequent blooms for a few days.

Meanwhile I've been placing orders for more. Sometime I'll hope to show what Cherry Fling looks like, and whether it looks as tasty as Butter and Sugar. You'll have to be as patient as I. Meanwhile I'm keeping a list of what is expected, what was ordered last year but not bloomed yet, and figuring out which daylilies will be gifted to others while they insist on multiplying 5 times faster than the iris do!

If I have to move again, I'll be sure I know where to dig for what to keep!

Getting A Replacement Card

It's not my first time needing a card replaced. Stuff happens, not everybody is honest. Even if they all were, other things come along requiring replacement sets of numbers. I've been with a particular credit card company over 20 years now. There has never been a problem replacing one, although my credit union goes way above & beyond the charge card company in simple terms of speed for putting a new card in my hand vs. waiting for the mail system to pop one in my mail stream. I can walk into my credit union lobby, any of over a dozen locations,  ask for a new card without a reason, have the old card cancelled and a physical new card in hand in five minutes... unless the line at the tellers windows is a bit longer. And one does have to actually get in the door to take advantage of that speed. It could mean over an hour round trip, possibly depending on a pre-filled gas tank, or desire to stop and taste somebody else's cooking. The first time that happened, card in my hand in minutes after walking in, it surprised the heck out of me. I'm so used to Steve's former banking system taking over a week to issue one to him... but he's now joined my credit union for its many advantages. No names dropped here, but I think his old cards were delivered via their stagecoach. Considering how often replacements were required, there may well have been an increase of bandits holding them up as they crossed through the old wild west. I guess they were a bit slow to the table for e-shipping gold bars across the country.

So this is not any kind of a complaint. I know, odd accents can be annoying when you're not sure you are communicating with another  person at some major call center in  particular.  While this person at the call center had an accent he also made sure I knew I was understood, and that he was as well. When I asked a question he had a prompt answer, every time. Unlike many people on the other end of that phone call he refrained from trying to up-sell me on their services. I appreciated that. Too many call-in services just can't leave that script where it belongs, in a bonfire somewhere, polluting the atmosphere. Not that I'm in favor of polluting, just believe up-selling a long term customer is wasteful. If I wanted to add services I'd have done it years ago. Neither of us is new to their system. Both of us can read.

Today I got the expected prompt internet survey on how did I like their company's performance in responding to my request? Hmmm, just fine, but with caveats. It's been too short a time for my new card to show up. I'm not disappointed today - yet - by the process taking the time it needs. But what happens if I change my mind? Say, if the mail is an extra two days late and I'm needing that new card already? I have no way to get back to them now with that bit of feedback, other than placing another phone call, and that puts my initial satisfaction level at a mathematically higher level than it had just become. By then if I am unhappy it's a whole new issue, for I just informed them I was 100% OK with their services, when now I'm only 50% OK. Lest you think the two balance out, note that my optimism for this call is already 50% impaired, while the combination of the two calls registers as 75% satisfied while I'm still believing in promises made, as opposed to maybe 63% unsatisfied  now until it comes to pass. The"when" of asking that question is significant. Add two more days now. My satisfaction might be a lowly 10% while my overall optimism is bouncing down at, say, 27%. The figures are unsteady, changing with promises kept, not promises made. All kinds of other pressures, moment to moment, vary them. Did I miss a deadline for a special sale, for example? Or perhaps been saved from my own impulsiveness?

Somebody in Marketing found a way to fudge the books... or will have by the time I know I'm disappointed with them. Tsk tsk tsk!  Now if they made that survey satisfaction call several days after they fell down on the job I'd know I was unhappy, but that doesn't get a chance to register. How much you want to bet another follow-up call is never made to find out what's happening when a full report is possible, meaning card is in hand?  

Same here.

Sneakey...........  

So how long till the Marketing person who found out the way to fudging the books on company satisfaction gets promoted to a higher enough salary that the head honcho starts looking at them favorably enough to promote them to the rank of "desired family-in-law member"? Just asking, FYI. I have my own collection of desired inlaws already, thank you, and none of it was dependent of sneaky financial manipulations on anybody's part. Just acceptance, kindness. communication.... Human traits.

Don't Mess With My Granddaughter!!!!

In a chat with my granddaughter, we got to discussing  various kinds of SPAM salesmanship. All of you who have never received such a missive from total strangers, however selfless and noble their intentions, can just skip reading any further. This will never be pertinent in your lives. Obviously you live in a totally different universe. Enjoy your stays there. For the rest of you.....

The following came in their inbox, then passed on to me to share.  Her contributions to the following are in BOLD and in "quotes."

"Hi (name deleted), this is Hana a from MN Remodeling. We are offering remodel estimates this week at no cost. Would you be interested?

Today @ 4:36 PM."

My granddaughter has not only her own sense of humor, but her own spunk when dealing with offers like these at the end of a tough day at the Day Care followed by piling her own brood in the car after locking up behind the last kids, with or without errands needed on the way home necessary to deal with supper, bedtime baths, and all the other impediments to plow through before she gets her own chance to unwind and prepare for the next day's rerun. We're not even needing to mention that her family rents their abode, doesn't own, and a remodel is years away from any remotely likely life agenda that might possibly concern her.

"Hi Hana,

Unfortunately after the raccoon incident of 2024, we are no longer legally permitted to remodel anything larger than a birdhouse. The county got involved after the jacuzzi was installed in the attic and the emotional support ferret escaped into the ventilation system. We are currently under observation by three separate agencies and a woman named Denise from Menards.

That being said, if your team has experience from structurally questionable medieval-themed basements and removing glitter from HVAC systems, we may be interested. Please respond with your favorite dinosaur and whether you've ever been banned from a Bass Pro Shops."

I am refraining from naming her as the originator of the above replay. I'm sure Hana already has all the information she needs to identify the sender of the reply and likely a team of lawyers preparing a decision on the desirability of whatever their chosen response is. Personally I think either their dog ate the ferret or one of the kids is keeping a huge secret suitable for therapy in their thirties. Regardless, I dearly love them all! I have carefully refrained from inquiring as to the precise impetus behind her thoughtful reply that particular day. But hot damn! That's my girl!!!!!

Slings

 OK, I do concede they are necessary.  Sometimes. Under certain circumstances. But can we please draw the line to where it says they have to actually BE Slings?  Pretty Please? Cream & sugar on it? Rube Goldberg contraptions just DO NOT QUALIFY!!!!  Yes, I'm firm on that!

OK, I can - when in a very unlikely mellow mood - which is seldom these days I admit - allow that the aforementioned contraption does ever-so-slightly resemble that thing called a sling. So does a tricorner folded big dishtowel. One just adds the proper knots in the effective places to help keep it in place and performing its function, and the resemblance is there. Resemblance is all I'll give you at the moment. If it still isn't wearable, how an anybody claim it has function?

Day before yesterday I dug around in a kitchen towel drawer, pulled out a "clean" folded dishtowel, refolded it into sling shape in hopes of sling function, and wore it... all the way to the local pharmacy, in hopes of getting a slightly more official looking replacement than that old towel. Comfort was the primary goal. I mostly got that. Function was iffy at times. I bought a new sling, the cheaper of two available in that store, folded up inside a small cardboard box.  Why go all out on expenses with that awful track record?

It was comfortable for a couple minutes. Steve adjusted things and function joined in the new game. We went to Arby's next door for a sandwich each, and the sandwiches eagerly joined in the game of ... decorating the new sling. 

Sighhhhh.

But you knew that was where I was going with that comment, didn't you?

At least the sandwich was still yummy, a Greek gyro with just a bit of extra cucumber sauce. Just a bit. Not even a lot of staining... I think. Laundry will tell us later. Right now I'm wearing it and don't actually care about any new color scheme. 

I didn't, as a matter of fact, wear it all night through. It did become annoying by that time, and the towel adaptation took the night shift. It was a comfy night, sleeping straight through, and I'm still deciding whether finding the towel wadded up in my opposite hand in the morning was, in fact, a factor in that assessment of comfort. I can in full honesty claim the arm did in no way ache in the morning... until, that is, the store-bought sling took over its assigned duty again, and I'm not talking decorating. I also was able to get it on and off by myself without problems, so Steve got the benefit of extra sleep from the plan.

I am looking for a single large bag. I do plan to return the black contraption to the surgeon next Thursday when I go in for my post surgery assessment. They asked for it back after the first replacement surgery, but the problem was they waited till 3  months after surgery to even bring it up. (Seriously: Who on earth or any other planet could possibly tolerate wearing it that long?) It had by then long since gone into the trash and presumably been deposited in some landfill somewhere.... Hmmm, ever wonder what a landfill's rainbow bridge really looks like? Or wait: smells like?) All except the little red ball added to the contraption in order to keep my hand strength up were long gone. Heck, fighting with my keyboard or even the handle of my coffee cup are enough to accomplish that. I fibbed a bit and said the ball went in the garbage too. She chuckled and assured me that wasn't a big issue, they usually replace those with a fresh (sanitary?) one for the next user.  I do suppose I could wash the ball... before the grands and great-grands are over here to play with it and whatever the current accumulation is, with or without any doggy or squirrel contributions to the yard microclimate, but why bother? The little ones are in daycare and EVERYTHING still goes in at least one of their mouths. What would I be saving them from by washing a little rubber ball? A hug from Great Grandma? Whatever got knocked off a leaf on my plant table as the ball bounced off the edge of the pot? Whatever their shoes dragged in when they arrived from home and crossed the newly mown grass here on the way to the door? Gracious! One of them would already have plucked and eaten a blade of it on their way up the stairs.

What will be happening at the doctor's office that first checkup, besides proof of life, (your choice, mine or his), is noting how many of my "dissolvable" stitches have or haven't lived up to their name yet, or whether all is sealed up without infection, or what amount of movement is back in that joint. I'm sure somebody will be sure to have checked that there really is another person with me to drive since I likely will still be on Oxy that soon post surgery. Yes, I'm only taking one 5 mg tablet first AM and one last PM, accompanied by a Tylenol each time, and supplemented (likely) by a solitary Tylenol mid day if needed, with a total of 26 pills or 13 days, starting from returning home after surgery. I won't be doing PT yet, though I will be moving the arm a bit already, especially for "hygiene". They insist on using that word and only that word because somebody in some family will likely fall over in dead shock when another family member uses a more typical word which plainly describes what the writer of the instructions is too wimpy to write out and/or too chicken to ask how to spell. Anyway, that's how I envision it happening and I'm sticking to it!!! (Yes, color me a fan of the ridiculous.) Especially now that I have finally figured out how to spell "hygiene".  Hey, these days meeting those little goals counts! Allow me some pride for Pete's sake! Better yet, do it for MY SAKE! I've been working here!!!! "Fun" is a word reserved for when I can be driving again! So.... sometime next month, after my pills wear out and well before Steve's surgery, because he'll be the one needing a driver then.

My biggest decisions then will be what to wear based on weather and "hygiene" needs, and what kind of food to bring along as opposed to hitting a fast food joint. If Steve wants company there will be a "what shall I read?" decision. The decisions I'm really looking forward to are which iris I transplant and into which bed with space left?  I'll need a single arm with mobility and strength by then. The marking stakes are going well, now with pale blue tall iris blooming. I should have about 6 more colors in the circle bed I hope to bloom soon so I can plan for those. Move or stay?  And then daylillies  need marking because of promises to share, and weeds to pull when things settle, and......... Yesterday I was already outside with the hose keeping the recently moved ones healthy, plus browsing online catalogues where a gift certificate was promised......

But hey...lunchtime!

Some Things Are Going Right!

 I know, all that frustration makes it seem like nothing is doing well. But there is some good stuff happening on the home front. Let's start with the garden. Remember last year when I couldn't give rhubarb away for free? Suddenly this year I have two neighbors who've been asking for and taking some. My lawn mower's parents are one, and a family across the street are another. This of course is on top of my having had Paul dig up two full plants so I could take them to a friend who loves rhubarb for baking. Miracle of miracles, she even had one of her grown sons home that day with some time to dig holes, plant, and water them, before he went to work. Last time I looked, her new plants were doing well. That later day was when I also dropped off some pale blue iris for her to plant. She's been asking for the iris for a couple years, and managed twice to kill them without getting them anywhere near in the ground first.  Hmmmm, some interesting cause-and-effect at work, eh? That second day her same son was home, again with time,  and the iris were also planted per my instructions!

Yeee haaaaa!  (Now we'll see if anybody remembers to water.....)

More good garden news: Everything I've planted this spring, including trans-planted to a different site, is thriving in my own garden spots.  So far one thing is on order, a very unusual plant  but also very inexpensive, so I fully expect another year or two before see the blossom results. Meanwhile I ordered some wooden tongue depressors. Together with colored pencils and clear tape folded over that will work for marking "this plant right here blooms in this color" when it's time to dig and relocate later in the season.

I fully gave up on my gawdawfulll hospital "sling".  I put up with the first one for a longer time, but my body has been reacting to the 2nd one sooner than before and I really and truly hate itching. So I dug out an old dish towel, folded it into a triangle, knotted corners together, forced it over my head (fun!) and have been using it to keep my arm somewhere close to where it's supposed to be, hopefully for a few more weeks. It's not perfect but it IS TOLERABLE!!! Meanwhile the local pharmacy opens soon and Steve will be driving us up up there to  see - because these guys specialize in service -  if they can come up with something between the comfort of a towel and the sturdiness of the rigid poking plastic torture chamber. Fingers crossed. I'm NOT going back to the hospital one but I do see the point of more firm restrictions of arm movement for the next few weeks. The staff will know and have no qualms about emerging from behind their counters and guiding me straight to whichever necessary item is my necessary item du jour.  I will happily pay for that service, especially since it's semi-free. I just have to wait a couple extra hours till they open to get it taken care of. I can be patient, right? Right? C'mon, just say "YES" and we can get on with this. 

Just two more hours or so and suddenly I'll look up and reflect, "Pain? What pain? When did that go away? Was it when I was watching the morning news from the airport? You know, that part where they were showing off a new robot bartender in a new gaming section, that bit where it had to shake the cup of beverage and ice but apparently wasn't programmed to put a lid on the cup first? Yep. it might have been then, come to think of it. I hope they put that sequence in their permanent blooper files! It was so unrepentently, spectacularly wrong Wrong WRONG!!!! Hmmm, I wonder if the stuff splashing all over the counter damaged the gizmo's robotic bartender arm too at the time, or it just ran out of go-juice? And was the counter stained for good? Because I'm sure not washing it!!! Oops, nobody slip on the ice there..... Is there a bartender somewhere here? Anywhere? Janitor...? Lawyer? I hear a lot of money went into making this place....

But yeah, I'm pretty sure that was when the arm pain went away..... for a bit.

Or maybe it was just waiting long enough after the Oxy got swallowed spent in chasing down typos that fixed it?

Or..... "Server still not found...."  Oh yeah, Steve remembers an email... work being done somewhere, no internet..... was that till after supper?  Hooo boy !!!! Hmmm, the garden needs a  drink..... Uhh, apparently so does my shirt... and these shoes..... oops. I'm going to pretend that was a mistake.... want to join?

Noting Differences, Not Just Swearing At Them...As Much

OK, more details. First shoulder surgery:  I'll start with the waking up part., smooth and easy, not a care in the world. The second time around I woke fighting, not just noting people were talking around and over me. I was convinced I wasn't breathing. I had to force my diaphragm to expand and contract, suck in air, expel the spent fumes. It didn't feel like I was doing it naturally, and worse, nobody was noticing. I tried to tell people I wasn't breathing but the person next bed over, on the other side of the curtain, needed attention. Nobody noticed me even when I managed to push a word out, to sound an alarm. I knew the anesthetic could affect my lungs, so I didn't dare let my attention lapse from controlling my own breathing. It  took several terrified minutes before I felt breathing would continue without my consciously working at it.

Not my idea of a good time. Nor of being looked after. Obviously I survived the experience, but I hope never to repeat it.

It's not the same as forgetting details. After all, who  could forget thinking they couldn't breathe? I forgot I had to wait 7 days post surgery before being able to remove a sticky dressing in order to get a complete shower. I had to call the doc's office and ask them when it was OK. 7 full days. I am so yearning to rinse a ton of stinging salt off me. Summer sweat is here! But the incision needs a full 7 days to seal completely, to fully keep germs out. Infection is their one big worry, the thing most likely to cause implant failure.  As the patient allergic to medical adhesive who once peeled adhesive tape away after surgery, and both watched and felt it peel my skin off with it, it's kind of a big deal for me. I insist that EKG stickers get an alcohol wipe before the staff forget where one was stuck. I may be the only person who isn't actually amused by looking like I just "enjoyed" carnal relations with an octopus. The one time I lost so much skin with the tape it took a week extra to heal, and alcohol swabs were required to prevent infection starting.

But Hurray! Tomorrow is full shower day!

Another difference is pain. I started in with Oxy the first time in the hospital because it was recommended, if that's what you call a hand holding one out to you along with some water. and it indeed did prevent pain successfully..... Or maybe..... I just took it third day in, everything else wore off and I needed it. So I'm doing a morning and evening dose now, knowing my body is starting to complain. Last time there were more tablets than in this bottle,  30 then, 20 now, so I'm waiting to see if I will need the previous dose, which seemed to wear off simultaneously with need. Mostly any pain this time is when the straps don't seem to be holding my shoulder high enough. It feels like it's pulling apart, and the mirror shows a strong low slant instead of level shoulders. While some straps dig painfully in, others are too loose. I pull what/where I can. No happy medium. Where they dig into my neck the hard plastic scratches. Same with shoulder blades. I hate this "sling" contraption worse than the previous one, but I figure mostly that's less skin protection from summer fabrics.  OK, I asked for that by waiting for a warmer season, but that was for ease in bathroom duty. Is any of this making sense? This may well be why I'm not legal to drive for a few days or weeks.

Today I put on very baggy shorts and didn't need all the assistance moving clothing. Steve seemed a bit disappointed by that, but I noticed he didn't seem to miss the constant waking out of a sound sleep! Or maybe he just likes turning it into our private game, like I do. Either way, he has thanked me for interrupting an unpleasant dream, so there's that, anyway.

There are still parts of the contraption which dig painfully into my arm, especially with any movement. Losing it will be a joy! The ultimate goal will be having enough pain meds to match pain supplied.

One benefit from past experience has been learning the value of grocery deliveries. Not just talking getting it to the yard, but up the porch stairs, or even inside the front door.  Especially with gas prices right now. Part of my OT before being allowed to leave the hospital was demonstrating getting groceries up the stairs. Safely! So... sideways or even backwards. AND THIS DOESN'T EVEN START WITH PLANS TO REPLACE THE NOW UNSAFE FRONT PORCH, A WHOLE 'NOTHER TOPIC SAVED FOR A DAY WHEN I CAN FIGURE OUT I'M DOING FULL CAPS BEFORE I HAVE TO DELETE / RETYPE!