Today was a few sheets day.

There's a T-Shirt that says- "I'd jog, but the ice would fall out of my glass."

That's been my world for the past three weeks.  I have a cast on my left foot.  I use crutches when I go out, but I use a walker, borrowed from Aunt Aggie, to get around the house. A walker would be totally uncool in public, not that people who use walkers are uncool, but for me.. it's just that...  oh never mind.  I'm getting my foot, the good one, deeper into my mouth.

So getting back to jogging and ice. I've had to devise ways to transport things around the house.  I'm not supposed to put any weight on my left foot, so hopping with the walker has become my method of transportation.  I've duct-taped a Publix grocery bag to the handles so I can schlep things around. I have the special plastic thingy that goes over my cast when showering, my tablet, pens, and  a tube of E6000 glue. (You never know)   I also carry a spray  bottle labeled No No Peggy.   I had a Tabby named Peggy, God rest her little striped soul. She'd try to steal food from my plate while I ate so I had to squirt her with water and yell NO NO!  Thus, the No No Peggy bottle.  Friends would come over to hang and Peggy would begin to get into something.  Inevitably, someone would say,  "Hand me the No No Peggy."

Now I have a Tabby named Lester who suffers from ADHD and Aggressive Play Behavior.  As I write this I've had to shoot him with the No No about 6 times.   I keep the bottle nestled against a bag of Smokehouse almonds in my Publix bag.  Anyway.  Carrying wine or a mixed drink is tricky.  I have a few big-people sippy cups. These are the insulated cups that one buys at bookstores or over-priced coffee establishments.  But Pino Noir is just not a happening experience from a sippy cup.  I reserve the S.C. for coffee and tea.  Wine and vodka tonics need to be in their proper vessels. Hopping with a walker while holding a glass of wine or a cocktail is getting  really old.  I considered standing in the kitchen to drink  but it seems so tacky and bachelor-esque.  So, happy hour (hoppy hour?) is a challenge in the evening when I'm ready to relax from my busy day. The act of  elevating a foot and watching stupid daytime TV shows can take a lot out of a person. Life is hard.

The reason I've deemed this a two sheet day is because I had to do laundry while  my sister did some work around her house.  Well, actually, I had to watch my sister do my laundry in between working around her house.  It was exhausting.   Then, when she brought me home, I had to spring from my desk 6 or 7 times to squirt Lester as he tried to destroy things in the other room.

I still haven't figured out how to get the damned wine back here.