Me, Myself, And The Four Walls Surrounding Me

Well, my wheelchair managed to land himself in the E.R. for the third time in a month, so once again, it’s me, myself, and the four walls surrounding me. What makes this experience unbearably tragic is that according to the statuses on my facebook friendlist, it is summer outside, or something. Either that, or everyone knows that I’m stuck at home and they feel a heart-aching desire to [ insert tear-drops here ] NEVERMIND.

If I so desperately wanted to escape the four walls surrounding me, I would probably use the spare-chair I was loaned for the week. However, I’m pleased to declare that I have not yet reached that level of desperation.

It’s not that these few days off are no good for me – I have three-million-and-eighty-two items on my to-do-list and this wouldn’t be a shabby time to get cracking on them. This occurred to me this evening when I was contemplating what I should do with the remaining hours of the day. My options looked as follows:

A) Work on my portfolio which consists of fifteen essays, each four to five pages in length.

B) Pack up more of my belongings so I’m ready for the move this weekend, stress-free.

C) Play with the puppies, courtesy of my two fluffy dogs who accidentally procreated three months ago.

To tell you the truth, I was sort of in doubt, so naturally, I picked ‘C’ and before I knew it, I spent about X hours with the same puppy, which I swore on my clothes I would not get attached to. In the process of holding it like a baby and making direct eye contact with it, I came to the shocking realization that perhaps I do like kids and maybe my infant-hating whatevers are simply a defense mechanism for X, Y, and Z. Needless to type, I have buried myself deeper in the stages of attachment.