They dismantled my bathroom today—took out the commode and sink (now sitting in my driveway by the garage), took out all the drawers from the built-ins (drawers will be rebuilt and re-installed) and disconnected all water. It was relatively painless, though I hear tomorrow and Friday when they pull the tile will be noisy. Meantime, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started toward that bathroom.
I am now confined to the small—really small—bathroom off my office, which is crowded with all the stuff I cannot live without for one day. Reminds me of when I travel and am appalled at all the cosmetics and stuff a lady of my age carts around. One son-in-law always says, “What have you in here? Books?” Well, maybe that too. But I’m trying to get accustomed to this new arrangement and figure out the best way to place things.
Today, to top it off, I fell. Now, mind you, I was sitting down when I fell. Friend Betty asked how I could do that, and I said I guess only I was capable of it. But my favorite comb fell behind a flimsy wire shelf thing beneath the sink. I sat down on the floor, Indian-style, to retrieve it, reached, didn’t get it, and somehow fell backwards—I guess momentum. But I whacked my head on the closet door, which brought Jacob running. And then I couldn’t get up.
To be fair, there isn’t much maneuvering space in there. I finally worked around until I was on my knees, held on to the sink and the commode, and still couldn’t get my legs to push myself up. Jacob stood watching all this and said, “Juju, if you’re not up in five minutes, I’m calling 911.” I told him no, to call his mother, but I did struggle to my feet. Truth be told, I was alarmed at how weak I perceived my legs to be, so the incident left me shaken.
Dinner at a nice restaurant with friends cheered me greatly, but then I thought I had trouble getting up from the chair and that discouraged me. Came home, went about my business, and it dawned on me I got up and down from my desk chair several times and from the toilet once without even thinking about it. I’ve got to stop over-thinking this leg thing.
Tell me again, please, why I wanted to redo my bathroom. Too late now though.