So, I was supposed to go back to work this week. Then an infection set in, which (after an emergency trip to the surgeon to make sure I didn't need to go back under the knife) has set me back another week.
First was the happy meds. Then was the novelty of being able to watch endless bad tv while lying on the couch (finally the life of a lady of leisure, even if there was pain involved). Then I started working from home, knowing that this will mean I don't have to work 20 hours a day when I go back, even though I'm on an arrêt de travail and am really not supposed to be working, but I get so much more work done at home. Then Sylvain brought me a present, to make up for the fact that he keeps yelling at me to use the crutch to get around instead of walking on the side of my foot (ie. a twisted ankle waiting to happen).
But all these things are good in small doses.
Now I'm going totally stir-crazy and am starting to climb the walls with frustration. I am not used to being cooped up like this. The other day? I actually voluntarily spent ten minutes answering a customer service questionnaire over the phone. I am even considering a forbidden shuffle down to the supermarket just so I can have a conversation with someone other than Sylvain and Symphony.
If I don't do that, I fear I might end up shaking my fist at the young'uns who are camped out under our window at lunchtime and thinking that equates human contact.
I need my toe to get better already.
By the way, will you be in Paris on the December 6?
First was the happy meds. Then was the novelty of being able to watch endless bad tv while lying on the couch (finally the life of a lady of leisure, even if there was pain involved). Then I started working from home, knowing that this will mean I don't have to work 20 hours a day when I go back, even though I'm on an arrêt de travail and am really not supposed to be working, but I get so much more work done at home. Then Sylvain brought me a present, to make up for the fact that he keeps yelling at me to use the crutch to get around instead of walking on the side of my foot (ie. a twisted ankle waiting to happen).
But all these things are good in small doses.
Now I'm going totally stir-crazy and am starting to climb the walls with frustration. I am not used to being cooped up like this. The other day? I actually voluntarily spent ten minutes answering a customer service questionnaire over the phone. I am even considering a forbidden shuffle down to the supermarket just so I can have a conversation with someone other than Sylvain and Symphony.
If I don't do that, I fear I might end up shaking my fist at the young'uns who are camped out under our window at lunchtime and thinking that equates human contact.
I need my toe to get better already.
By the way, will you be in Paris on the December 6?
Welcome to five years of my life in Bretagne (minus the toe pain).
I'm glad the present was just an iPhone, I was worried that the pic would show some crazy sex toy!
Kolenda