Immitation of Immortality

I am five days into the edict "Keep your foot up, do not walk far, do not stand for long periods, do not get your bandages wet and  DO  NOT HAVE  A  SHOWER  FOR  TWO  WEEKS".

By 10.000am last Saturday morning I was bored out of my mind and wondering how I was going to last for the two weeks of doing nothing.  Normally a day without plans is something to look forward to; I will never think that way again.  Imagine being forced to live forever after you have done everything you need to or had planned to do.

I have been hanging out on Facebook and giggling at the posts. It would appear that Facebook is strictly Democratic  -  or I just haven't found much Republican stuff  -  and I have discovered Randy Rainbow and all his works. I have read all the posts about the terrorist attack in Sweden  -  and some of them were real classics. As I understand from official Swedish sources it snowed and a rutting moose attacked a garden ornament in the shape of a moose  -  Oh, and a pony called Biscuit was rescued from a well.

I have tried reading and have finally finished "Baghdad Burning; Girlblog from Iraq" and have read the preface to the second book of Riverbend's blog "Baghdad Burning II" but that all needs to be taken a bit at a time and blog by blog.  I wish her well and hope that she is safe and happy wherever she is now.

I am reading a Gladys Mitchell book on my Kobo Reader but keep on falling asleep since it seems to be a guided tour around the Scottish Highlands with a murder thrown in for a bit of light relief, so I have resorted to re-reading Terry Pratchett's Discworld series of books and it doesn't matter if I fall asleep over them because I have already read them so many times that if I miss a bit I will know what happened anyway.  And of course, I can't get to sleep at night so I get up and read tomorrow's news which is already happening in USA or maybe it is yesterday's news which tripped over the international dateline.  Anyway it is all FALSE NEWS and LIES so it really doesn't matter.

If you have managed to read down this far you have probably got the message that I am bored out of my tiny mind not because I usually do a heap of things but because I CAN'T do things.

The cats are no help either.  They see one leg up and assume that it constitutes a lap and object when they fall off . . . and Parsifal is learning to knit, I think.  He used l eat anything cordlike so I am treating his interest in my knitting with deep disquiet, keeping it well wrapped when I stop to read a book, fall asleep or haunt Facebook.

"Life gets tejus don't it."