I had surprise surgery last week, and while I spend approximately 19 hours of every day in bed, I somehow have found more important things to do than blogging. Like take Percocet and Google Image search puppies. My orthopedic surgeon uncle gave a loosey-goosey tendon in my ankle a home. I would like to take this opportunity to form a public complaint about the lack of a program comparable to Microsoft Paint on Macs. Because you have to believe this would be a good'un.
I am currently sporting a plaster splint that is the most counter intuitive crapshoot on God's green earth. In its free time, when it is not producing leg sweat and making me feel claustrophobic, it enjoys personally trying to pull apart every stitch or staple or whatever grossnasty post-surgical thing they use these days.
Everyone is showering Dog Breath with praise, because the reason she won't leave my side is because her dog-sense knows that I'm in pain. Right. And totally not because my side is in bed 19 hours of the day.
I must go now, because last week in a weird prescription drug comatose, I ordered orange pants online. I was just looking at my receipt email to assure that this actually happened and track the order when the UPS dude pulled up. It's fate. Orange pants fate. The pants gods are looking down on me saying, "Yeah. You deal with this."
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