There is a stranger here cleaning my house right now. 

Now that I have been given orders to stay off my ankle, my home is appearing more and more desperate to be scrubbed and cleaned.  I keep things relatively tidy but I haven’t put a glove to anything in the last two weeks.  I have more than enough hobbies and interesting things to do during my convalescence, but instead I have become uncharacteristicly distracted by my floors and walls, constantly judging the cleanliness of my surroundings.  And judging myself.  I like to live and flop around here, not obsess about it. Now, I am just beating myself up about not being able to haul a big bucket of hot soapy water around and climb to all the places where dirt may be lurking.  I have more than enough friends and family that are repeatedly offering help but I am independent to the bone and have a hard time admitting I need assistance.  And now, someone else is actually cleaning my home.  My bones may be broken but I think it’s my psyche that’s taken the biggest hit.