with surgery, recuperation, the accumulation of heavy objects around the house that you can glare at for hours but not pick up?
My suggestion:marry my husband Randy. This, of course, is a path closed to the rest of you (and how) but I think Randy's due for at least a fraction of the gratitude due him. Since I've gotten home, he's:
fed dogs, let dogs out, taken care of dogs at 6 a.m. all day to 11 p.m.
made macaroni and cheese, hamburgers, eggs or whatever else I think my innards can take
shopped for groceries
done laundry
vacuumed
shoveled
done dishes
made beds -- you've never seen a neat bed until you've seen Randy's work
driven me to various appointments at various clinics
as I got better, driven me to department stores to go through clearance clothing.
At the hospital, he was attentive and positive while I was awake and perfectly happy to read while I wasn't. Not having to feel like I'm being entertained, and not having people feel responsible for entertaining me is my ideal for a hospital visitor, I must say.
Of course, Randy is my ideal for just about everything!
