Anna Be.

Image by Cassey via Flickr I've found out this week that confinement ("cabin fever") leads to some strong psychological distortions. First, let me explain my confinement. I can't drive, but I have this whole big house and the back yard to spend my time. However, I have spent 90 percent of it between the bed and the sofa next to the bed. I've read a dozen books and watched a dozen movies, and stared at the ceiling a lot. There you go. But here is the mind-grinder that is plaguing me since yesterday: the floor between the bed and the sofa-by-the-bed really needs to be vacuumed. I can not vacuum. This is a magnifying cycle: the more devastated I am to not vacuum, the more the floor seems to need vacuuming, the more devastated I am to not vacuum, the more the floor seems to need vacuuming. That is just an example. There is also the desperate need for mopping in the bathroom. Do you know the last time I mopped the bathroom? No, me either. Decades ago. But n...

It is a condition of my convalescence that I can not drive for six weeks, a side effect of having to wear this cervical collar ever time I leave my bed or sofa. There was another time about 15 years ago when I didn't drive for three months, spent a whole summer working around my grandmothers' houses and serving my penance in other ways. This time it is not punishment, but concern for my delicate little vertebra and their delicate little fusing process. This time around it means any nearby person's willingness to take me out of the house is a highly enticing offer to me. I will take a shower and put on lipstick to ride with you to CVS. Otherwise I'm house-bound for another 4.5 weeks, at least. But at home, I'm clicking along according to my little system. I'm reading, walking on the treadmill, career planning, napping, etc. All of those enjoyable activities that don't require lifting anything or bending over. Related articles Laser Spine Surgery for Spi...