I drove the RAV4 to work today. It wasn’t exciting but it was pleasant enough. The car is nearly vegan. It has pleather seats. Well, the steering wheel is wrapped in leather. But otherwise it is a vegetarian, tree-hugging vehicle. Seems silly for a top tier predator to be driving it.

Sunday night (writing this Monday afternoon) was supposed to feature some fun sexual action. As you already read, it didn’t. Mrs. Lion had barely gotten out of her shower when I fell asleep for an hour. That’s a sure mood killer.

It’s been suggested that I’ve been too wrapped up in planning for my recovery. You could argue that I’ve gone too far, especially when I replaced my Mustang with a (shudder) Toyota hybrid. Maybe I have. It’s my nature.

I miss our normal life. It feels odd to have sex absent. It is a bit awkward around our house because Mrs. Lion seems unsure when she should put her paw down with me. She seems too careful.

I am pretty sure that my posts will be considerably less frequent after Thursday. That’s the day my surgery is scheduled. Mrs. Lion will keep you up to date until I am able to post again. Speaking of Mrs. Lion, she ordered some “sick room” supplies to help me while recovering. They arrived yesterday.

One item is a stool for the shower. We have a very large stall shower so it fits and leaves lots of room around it. It’s depressing sick-room white. But that’s not all. She also bought a toilet seat extender. It’s a white, toilet shaped thing that raises the seat height by about six inches. It attaches under the current seat. I think that device will make it easier for me to sit and then stand up again without the use of my right arm.

Both of her acquisitions are going to make life easier for me. Both remind me that I will be an invalid. We also bought an over-bed table like they use in hospitals. This will be very useful, but alas, is hospital-like. It’s pretty obvious that my ego is causing me some discomfort. I’m not surrendering easily to being handicapped.

It’s ironic that I had no trouble spending the rest of my life in a chastity device that absolutely removes any possibility that I can do anything with my penis. Isn’t the penis the center of what makes me male? Clearly, I am fine with losing control of it. I’m not fine with losing the use of my arm. But, like it or not, on Thursday my right arm will be in a sling and out of commission for some time.

Enough whining! I’ll learn to live with my disability. I’ll also get back my libido. In the meantime, thank you for putting up with me.