Flaky

I'm running out of topics; I need to get out of my house and experience something, anything, to write about. Toward that end (not just for writing but also for my sanity), I'm leaving in a few hours to spend a few days with my youngest son. We're doing an early birthday celebration. (Maybe I said that in a previous post.) I'm driving to my middle son's house a half-hour away, and he will drive the rest of the way. Tomorrow we're going to Cocoa Beach, and later in the day my middle son's girlfriend is driving to my youngest son's house. On Saturday, my young associate -- who has been my youngest son's best friend since we moved to Florida and they were in third grade -- will drive down to join us and that night we'll all go out to a celebratory dinner.

I have mixed feelings about this trip (and I apologize if I've already mentioned them; my mind hasn't been top-notch lately). I will be very happy to spend time with my sons and the others I mentioned, especially in honor of my son's birthday. Also, I think a change of scenery will do me a world of good. I've let the house a total of three times in the past month. However, I'm not at my traveling best. Even though my son will be driving and I will be in the back seat with my foot propped on the other seat, I'm not sure it will be a comfortable ride. I'm highly annoyed with my doctor's office for not taking care of my post-surgical boot sooner. (At this point, I'll be waiting until my next appointment on Wednesday, 7/29, to get it.) I'm worried about falling over somebody, or just falling down. There will be five people, three dogs, and at least one cat in my son's apartment. I'm having enough trouble getting around my house, which isn't huge but it's certainly less densely occupied.

Tomorrow we will be at the beach, but I will be sitting at a tiki bar next to the beach. I can't roll my scooter out on the beach, but the tiki bar isn't the worst place to be. I'll take a book with me, prop my foot up, and maybe even have a tropical drink. Or ten.