I, of course, moved the next day.
Oh...and went into work for the full day.
In my (admittedly weak) defense, I did not lift much of anything (I was in pain, which is a lovely motivator to listen to what the doctor said), though I did break the rule on occasion. Well, often enough to cause myself extreme discomfort. Ongoing discomfort.
Okay, I didn't really listen that well at all.
Following the move I did much the same throughout the week, though never intentionally. The result was, come yesterday, I was in a rather unpleasant state of feeling sick, overtired, achey, pained...with a few side-effects of a more weepy nature from the surgery itself.
I spent four hours in traffic (thank you, multi-car accident), came home, ate dinner, showered, told Gabe I wasn't feeling well, and ran out (walked quite a distance) to Cinerama (awesome spot, you should go there) to see "The Hunger Games" with H & J.
In the (chocolate popcorn-scented) lobby we took our picture with the Planet of the Apes display, sent the text off to my dad with a reference to "The Musical" (this dates back to Nelson and doesn't make sense if you weren't there), and went to our seats.
About thirty minutes into the film, I had to leave because of how poorly I felt. I spent the rest of my night alternating between sitting on the theatre steps outside, to sitting on the white couch outside, to jumping back into the theatre to curl or stand at the back and catch what I could of the movie (you should watch it--it was great, though missed out on so many good parts of the book as movies do).
The second Gabe came out of the theatre at the end (he'd tried to find me earlier but hadn't been able), he took one look at me and whisked me away to the nearest taxi. I was home, curled up in bed in a matter of minutes.
Today Gabe has enforced a general ban on pretty much everything but sitting on the couch, snuggles, and eating...and I (for once) actually mean to listen. :)