Robert says he’s going to get to come home on Monday. He (and I) were disappointed it’s not sooner. He wanted it to be today. I wanted it to be Sunday so I wouldn’t have to take off work Monday. Also so I could get the house cleaned up and some other errands (laundry, grocery shopping) done before he gets home.
So Monday it is. I’m waiting for it to be 8:30 p.m. here so I can play “park for free.” If you arrive at the valet parking lot of the hospital after 9PM, you just park yourself and go on in. If you arrive before 9PM, you have to give the valet guys your keys, then the move the cars over to the garage on the other side of the moon and you pay $10. This way, if I get there after they leave, then I can stay all night and not pay a dime.
I’m going to stay over tonight and then go back home and work like a fiend getting the bedroom arranged. I bet he comes home with crutches or a walker. Something at least. A wheelchair would be useless here, since we are on the second floor and only have rickety stairs and no elevator.
He’ll be on his own all next week while I am at work, and I’ll have to trust him to be compliant with the doctor’s instructions regarding his foot/wound/etc. It’s worse than having a child. I probably would have had a shot at making any child tremble in fear of the consequences of disobeying me or the doctor. But not him. It’s like having a caged gorilla loose in the house. Or a cat, and he’s used up most of his nine lives already.
Let the fun begin.