Sure sign of the (personal) apocalypse

Been a week now since operation, healing well, far as I know (it's under wraps, could be festering and teeming with dangerous microbes, who knows), and no pain, well, little from time to time but not bad.

Been locked up here since last Tuesday which, if I'm not mistaken, is the absolute longest time I've been in one small place since...I hesitate to say the womb, but close. Been here a long, long time, seems longer really than it's been, but since I'm restless to start with, it's been a challenge. I work regularly, have my hoof up next to my computer as I type this, following doctor's "toes above nose" orders to keep wound elevated above the heart as best I can, hoping it speeds recovery.

But cabin fever has officially set in. Big time. I'm going freaking nuts. I hate day-time TV, and much at night, and read the Kindle when I can, but prefer to work through the day to maintain some sense of normalcy and routine.

But I can tell my mind is mush because of what just happened. Just had "The Death Talk" with Mickey. My cat. Honestly. The fat tub of fur, all 18 pounds, was laying in a sun beam on the living room floor and I was just standing there, on crutches, looking at him and this conversation actually took place:

Me: Hey.
Mickey: (just stares)
Me: Lemme ask you something...
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: Say I just fell right now, hit my head and died, right here, on the floor. Say I wasn't checked on by other people, lucky I am really, but say I wasn't. Say I died, and in a day or two you ran out of food and no one knew I was dead.
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: Now correct me if I'm wrong, but I always heard that a cat, when trapped in a house with a dead person, that cat, or cats if there's a bunch, will get really hungry and then start eating the dead person, but starting with the eyeballs, cause it's the softest part of the body.
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: Makes sense, I guess, path of least resistance and all. But anyway, just wondering if that's true. Whaddya think? Is it true?
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: Stop looking at my eyes like that, I know what you're thinking.
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: OK, fine, but just remember how nice I've been to you all these years. I took you out of the pound, gave you a home, loved you, fed you, cleaned your litter box. Just don't forget, OK?
Mickey: (Just stares)
Me: (Just stares)
Mickey (Just stares. Wins. I move back into my office, sit down)
Me: Please stop staring. I know you are.
Mickey: Just make sure you land face up.
Me: I'll try.
Mickey: (Just stares)

I need to get out of the house. And not fall down in front of Mickey on the way out.