You could still call me “Spot” and not be far off the mark, but I am looking much better. Last night when I peeled out of my street clothes and showed my poor legs to Beloved, he exclaimed, “Oh. Wow.” but not with the same intonation he usually greets them. I did make a run to the drugstore to ask the pharmacist what might reduce the itching and general misery, since I cannot take Benadryl. I came home with a tube of Aveeno-et-al. Beloved swabbed me down thoroughly, and I slept fairly well. After my shower this morning, he doctored me again. (One more reason to like being married: having someone who can reach the bits that are just out of easy reach.) After lunch today I doctored as much as I could, and I’ll have him swab me again before bedtime. My right leg, at least the part I can see, is healing rapidly; the left leg, less so, but still progressing.
What I would like to do, is sit in a big tub full of oatmeal slurry for about a week and a half, although I suspect I will be healed long before that. And besides, it would interfere with my knitting.
The first pillow cover is all sewn up, and the pillow is now ready to support my back in one of the wicker chairs. Heavenly. I have the second cover cast on and am about to head back for more knitting. I came home to BLT’s with homegrown tomatoes and freshly-baked bread and reduced-sodium bacon. I am contemplating some of the last of the strawberry/raspberry sorbet for dessert, but Beloved thinks we might prefer one of his cinnamon-laced (unsweet) rolls with a glass of milk, instead. I have an unopened quart of goat’s milk in the fridge.