These Walls COULD Talk

Shawn has admitted to remodeling the bedroom a dozen times over in his head. "New paint, texture, mud. The ceiling....The furniture..."

*shutter* I know Shawn and his gimped-out knee are sick of the bedroom. It's just not comfortable any where else. I fear that after the surgery, he'll want to clear the room and redo the walls. "NO!" I say. "This color helps me sleep!" I hate moving an entire room out and I like our blue walls!

Showering sucks. Pardon my french, but it does. I dread it because I know it hurts him and there's nothing I can do! I cry because he's hurting (I am SUCH a girl) See? His taking showers hurts me. I now understand sympathy pains. Forthis reason alone, we've opted to a shower every other night. Let's face it, he's not getting dirty and sweaty playing Playstation.

Shawn says they (the lady at the hospital) told him to shower using this special soap they gave him. He's got to shower using the half the soap the night before surgery, then again the morning of. Two showers???

"That doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't you just shower the morning of?" I ask.
"Well that's what they told me!" he says.

It's times like these that I wish I could have gone with Shawn to each and every appointment. Men don't ask questions at the doctor's. Or at least my man. And he DOES NOT ask for directions, either. Surprised? I didn't think you would be.

He once took directions from Joe, however: "It's before the big curve. When you get to the big curve, you've gone to far.

Reminds me of that joke--Go down past where the old school house used to be, hang a right...