I'm finally able to tolerate the fugly boot for more than a few minutes. This means I'm able to make dinner (no more nasty frozen pizzas because that's the only thing Dave learned how to make during his single days) and move around the house without hopping on one foot or navigating the toy landmines with crutches.
Dave is doing much better this time around but its still frustrating he wont let anyone come over and give us a hand but he gets frustrated taking care of the house and the kids without his normal quiet time in the shop. I had to laugh on Thursday after the kids were put back in bed for the third time when he came into the livingroom and slumped down in his chair with a loud sigh.
Dave - "I am dead. No, I'm not dead, I'm run over and run down."
Me - "Now imagine if I asked you for sex..."
Dave - "I'm going down to the shop."
That's what I thought.