Friday, November 14, 2003

T.G., T.G., T.G.I.F.

I'm glad this week is over. I think my dental surgery is healing, but sometimes it's hard to say. I'm still staying drugged up nearly 24-hours a day, vicodin at night, ibuprofen 800 by day. I refilled the ibu, but not the vico, so I only have 3 or 4 nights of it left, which is downright tragic.

Tonight when I came home, 6 or 7 of my low-voltage lights in front had been pulled from the ground. It was either (a) the mailman tripping over them, (b) kids riding their bikes through our lawn again or (c) an animal pulling on the wire. I haven't yet buried the wire, but will probably do that this weekend. I was able to quickly right them all, good as new.

Separate from the pain in my hand (mostly now down to the pinky, everything else seems normal) and the pain in my mouth, I have a cold. It consists mostly of me being drained of energy and having to blow my nose every 12 seconds. It's not fun. I look forward to the sweet release of sleep. Until 5:30 a.m. when the pain medication wears off at the exact same time that the tiny cat Cash decides it's time to get up and play.

But still, Thank God it's Friday, eh?

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