Television weakly

I realize that in today's society it's commonplace to run out of the house at a moments notice if you need something from the store. Then, if you need something else the next day - or a few hours later - jump in the car and back out.

For me, this is incredibly disruptive (not to mention shockingly wasteful). Number one: It's a big deal getting 4 small children ready to go, out the door, in the car, back out of the car, around the store, through the checkout, back in the car. Number two: Nothing is right down the road. Everything is a 15min drive away. Everything good is a 35min drive away. And number three: I'm a homebody. I don't like being away from the Burrow. It's not like I could possibly get bored here, either; there's always something that needs doing. I have a list as long as my arm, from clean bathroom to cut down trees for next year's firewood.

So when something came in the post yesterday that needed notarizing Dad wanted to go right then, of course.

I cringed. I'd just been out the day before, sparring with purse-snatchers; and the day before that, to the WalMart with him; and the day before that ...

Sweet Mother of Stan Lee where will it end?!

... So, of course we went.

I sweet-talked the ladies at my bank into cashing a $400 check for him and notarizing his whatever-it-was urgent thing, we flashed through the Captain D's for Dad's fish fix, and ran to the store. Dad walked around the entire Bi-Lo on his new crutches, BTW. He was bloody knackered at the finish but he got round OK. We were both pleased.

Speaking of leaving the house, I'm convinced that Dad has been surreptitiously emailing everyone with a telly (which would be everyone but me and the Dalai Lama) and begging them to come get him for an afternoon. He's planning on having AG fetch him tomorrow so that they can watch the 24 hours of Daytona (presumably only a few hours of it).

I am glad that he's going to get to see some of Daytona. He's been in audio-visual hell here without his satellite, his dish network, and his big-as-my-dining-room-table television. Poor thing.

-----

Here's his latest thing: He's been insisting that he can drive now. A car. By himself.

He tried to get me to let him take Evil Genius Husband's Toyota - alone - to the bank yesterday. I told him: "no". I told him that I wanted to drive with him first and check out how he did. He countered by saying that he'd just get one of his friends to let him drive his car. I said that certainly people with any sense did not want Blue Hill that angry with them.

He's partly exasperated and partly amused. I told him that I'm just treating him like he treats me. It's my job to take care of him right now and I want him to be safe. I also know how he is: blessed with supreme confidence.

I'm sure he's probably OK, physically, to drive short distances, but he's going to have to prove to me - with me in the car - that he can handle it. Then he can do as he wishes, the hard-headed thing.

Just between you and me, he also has not been doing his PT excercises. He's done them like 4 times since he's been here and he's supposed to do them every day. I threatened this morning to blog about it and tell everyone to call him ... and I will. If he doesn't start doing them, I swear, I'll blog about him not doing them and all of you can ring him and fuss at him for not doing his physical therapy ...

*koff*justcallhiscell*koff*

In the meantime, I swear I'm not leaving this house all week-end!