Sunday

It's Sunday at the rehab center. I am sitting on the edge of my bed, still in my long comfy nightgown. This morning I have had my vitals taken, my weight measured, meds given, and breakfast brought to me. I asked for peanut butter for the toast because the meal was a wee bit skimpy (toast, sliced tomatoes, small fruit bowl, juice, tea). We are all hanging around like the rich, waiting to be taken care of. It seems funny to have this day. Of course wounds continue to heal and we do our little bits of exercise in our beds, but in general not a lot of effort goes to the main goal. The staff works just as hard nevertheless. Maybe harder. In a little while I will choose some clothes and go brush my teeth, wash my face, do a quick-clean of my bod, and get dressed. Then perhaps I will wander around the center. Outside and inside. Only thing to complete the morning would be a fresh soy decaf mocha. That isn't going to happen. For some reason, SLO TCC does not offer fancy coffee drinks. Yet.