I thought I'd do more reading while I'm off, but it's harder than I expected when I can't get comfortable. I'm usually best laying on my side (either side), and then sometimes I can kneel (like I am now) in front of the computer, and then seldom (when I'm eating, usually) I try to sit on a padded chair or the couch or something. So yesterday I finally finished reading Sister Chicas, which I actually started before the surgery. I think the book was better than I can give it credit for. I kept falling asleep, but I think that was a combination of the drugs and laying down, not necessarily the book. The book was based on three Puerto Rican girls living in Chicago with their families. It was interesting and referenced real Chicago bars and such. I recognized some things from a friend of mine who was the only gringa (is that right?) in a Chicago neighborhood years ago.
Now I'm reading The Love Wife which is about a Chinese-American family. Yet another new perspective to make me introspective about my own life and purpose. Huh.
I'm doing pretty well, I'd say, recovery-wise. My man didn't even come home for lunch today. And I already feel guilty about the stuff I don't get done around here. This morning the dishes from last night were still on the counter, so I kneeled on the floor and emptied the dishwasher and put last night's dishes in. I think there's dirty clothes on the washer I should try to do to. Not because I should be bending and doing it, but because it has to get done and I feel bad asking. Now I feel like crying. Damn drugs.