HORRORS. Today is Tuesday.
That means this evening is soaked up and f**ked up by the endlessly annoying weekly physical therapy session.
hup hup jump jump roll roll hup hup groan moan hate hate HATE. Boyoboy, do I hate the physical therapy sideshows.
Not that they hurt. They don’t, especially. But that they are…
- boring
- pointless
- useless (they do nothing for the pain: all that works there is time)
- endlessly reminiscent of the annoying PE classes that used to aggravate me no end in junior high and high school
- time suck for my son, who ends up sitting around there for two hours waiting for them to release me
- and a fukkin waste of time
What is working on the injured limb is
a) the passage of time; and
b) careful, steady, NORMAL use of the joint in walking, sitting, climbing, and whatnot.
For those two obvious, very stupid reasons, the time waste feels even MORE annoying than it normally would
Hmmmm… Almost 6:20. No sign of my excellent son. Maybe I have the wrong day?
One can only hope.
Let us traipse to the back room and look at the old-fashioned paper wall calendar…
****
Hmmm…uh huh! I have that we were supposed to be there at 5:30.
It’s 5:23 now: so saith the MacBook. Maybe it was that Mijito was to pick me up at 5;30. That would get us to Nuisance Central a little before 6:00 p.m.
Call.
Get the Kid.
And yeah: that speculation was…sorta in the ball park.
The enormous value of a healthy offspring is that the critter retains its marbles as you slide deeper and deeper into senility!
😀