House of Destruction

Actually, that would just be my kitchen.

Mr. Recommendation and The Rocket Scientist (his teenage son), came over this morning to begin tearing out the old kitchen stuff. Shortly after beginning, Mr. Recommendation manages to slice his finger open on a piece of aluminum trim. After inspection, I point him to the nearest hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot.

A few hours later, he returns and work has resumed. As of now, they have ripped out all the old tile (some assclown installed bathroom tile as the back splash). The oven has been pulled out. The kitchen is a complete and utter disaster. Hank, being the helpful sort, is trying to do his part in keeping things somewhat neat by eating the drywall.

I've been gimping around still. I have been doing the exercises that physical therapy suggested, but my right leg is still incredibly weak. My left leg has been overcompensating for the right leg for so long, my left leg is twice as strong as the right. It's going to take a while for the right leg to catch up. I've been icing my knee down frequently, and I have noticed a big decrease in the swelling. It's still pretty depressing that I can't really do a lot right now. Stairs are still a challenge, and I damn near cried when Sam got out and ran away (he came back 15 minutes later) only because I couldn't run after him. I relish the day I can start swimming. I find that a lot more interesting than the boring leg lifts PT has me doing.

Knee surgery sucks. Don't ever do it unless you absolutely have to.