My swollen ankle is coming on in leaps and bounds. Though, not so much with leaping and bounding. However, this evening I did manage to get to the kitchen. With the aid of a walking stick. Once there, I prepared and cooked dinner. Afterwards I rinsed everything off then stacked the dishwasher. It almost felt normal.
Of course, the rest of the day had been spent reclining, almost saving my ankle for the Great Evening Stress Test. But, rather than the rest, I reckon it was the bun what did it.
This was Mirinda’s guilt treat. She felt guilty because she’d been to Norrby’s without me (or the girls, but they weren’t so bothered). She was going to get me the final cardamom bun (my favourite) except that the final cardamom bun had been plucked from the cabinet before she could claim it. Still, a Swedish bun is a Swedish bun and as a treat, they’re hard to beat.
If I’d needed cheering up then this would have had me smiling.
I didn’t particularly need cheering up (though it did have me smiling). While my ankle and inability to walk beyond crawling on my back has made me frustrated and useless, I’ve not been particularly without cheer. I attribute that more to Mirinda than my own ability to find joy in most things. She has been an excellent nurse.
Speaking of treats, she has also been cycling us through the various ice cream flavours available at Ica. Tonight was the rather odd salted liquorice. While I don’t think I’d actively seek it out again, it wasn’t bad. Odd, but not bad.
Like cheese, I don’t think I’ve tried an ice cream I didn’t like. And, in fact, I can even combine the two. How well I remember the amazing Camembert ice cream I had at Nerac back in 2017.
Salty sweet food seems to have become ‘a thing’ which might explain the strange graphic on the pack of Himalayan pink salt that Mirinda bought the other day. It seems to show an ice cream with salt being sprinkled over the top of it. Nowhere on the pack is this explained.
Odder still is the nutrition table which shows, as you’d expect, 0% for everything apart from salt. The only ingredient is salt and yet the quantity of salt per 100g is only 98%. So, what is the remaining 2% of every 100g?
Colour me confused. On both counts.
While I remained confused, wondering and reclined, Mirinda, between her trip to Norrby’s, had a couple of lovely Skype sessions today: Adele and Amanda. (Strictly speaking, the video chat with Amanda was via Facetime, I think.)
It felt a bit intrusive lying on the sofa while Mirinda chatted with friends so, for some of it, I wore headphones. In particular, today I scrolled through the Eurovision songs from yesterday via the SVT Play website.
Then, finally, I managed to haul my arse off the sofa and into the kitchen, where I cooked a dinner of meatballs and cauli mash. If nothing else, the change of scene was refreshing. The view I have had for what feels like an eternity has begun to wane somewhat.
And so, while Mirinda took the girls on a constitutional, I dragged myself into the kitchen and made meatballs. Well, I’d love to say I made the meatballs but I can’t. I cheated.
Thinking she’d have to cook them, Mirinda had bought some pre-made meatballs which were lovely. But I think mine on Christmas Eve were better.
In terms of healing, it was an excellent day. I’m expecting an increase in better days as the week goes along.
