It's a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining and it's temperate. Ship horns can be heard on the Mississippi River. The French Quarter is filled with visitors and street performers and all of the stores and galleries and parks are open.
Meanwhile, I'm down with yet another open sore on my leg, so I sit here immobile in my house, just a few blocks away. I can't walk again, not even to one of the several nearby restaurants. I can't cut the grass, or move furniture that needs moving. I can't do a damned thing.
I've been here a week now in this place that I've dreamed of moving to for so long and I've gone nowhere and seen nothing. I've made it to work three days out of five, and the rest of the time I sit around my house like a mouse in a box, contemplating all of the projects that I can't even start.