X-rays showed the chipped bone in my ankle is pulling back toward the main bone and filling in. Verdict: THE BOOT for another two weeks. The doctor took the liberty of once again scolding me for not wearing THE BOOT after day 3. “Had you done like I said, you might be out of it by now.” Okay, okay; point taken. Between that and my stitched eyelid, and a day-long headache, I’m feeling pretty beat up today. I went for a scooter around the big block, and at one point, tripped on my propelling foot, sending the scooter tumbling out from under me and nearly knocking me to the ground (that street is steeper than it looks). Thankfully, I have excellent balance, and caught myself before falling—albeit on the booted foot, which took most of the tumble’s brunt. A couple of ladies walking dogs across the street asked whether I needed help. No, just a clumsy, tired, fed-up old lady here not paying attention and feeling sorry for herself. A spray of purple clematis climbing up someone’s mailbox brought a smile to my face, as did a few other passersby who empathized with me. One woman sympathized, having been booted and driving a scooter three years ago. “I feel your pain, sister,” she said. I have good neighbors.
The upstairs bathroom project, which turned into a downstairs dining room ceiling project and an adjacent bedroom wall project, is nearing a close. The guys finished up a few other things. They have to come back to caulk and replace the shower and tub hardware. But tomorrow’s contractors (yet another bunch) will be spraying insulation in the attic and cutting holes in the bedroom closet walls upstairs to add insulation to the dormers. I’ll need to warn them that they may find the rotting carcass of a raccoon, believed to have died behind the wall they will be cutting into, if the smell emitting from that area last year was indeed what I thought it was. Some people have all the fun.