Many Pardons...Again/Still

It's the goofy pills, I'm afraid. Still making me goofy, but hey, I can walk, even if it's not in such a straight line. Still taking less than the Doc's dosage. Still goofy. Still can't read. I mean I can, but the rate of two naps per page is not an exaggeration. Dang! I pick up the Kindle thinking I'm just fine, awake and sober, and three lines later I'm aware... that I haven't been aware for more than the first few words of whatever it was. The eyes were shut. The br...

OK, here's perfect example. My phone rang, interrupting my thought. Assuming it qualified as one. You judge. I cannot even imagine what I was starting to say that started out as "The br".

Let's hope it wasn't important. At least I remember that the interruption was a pharmacy robocall, letting me know that what I called in for a refill yesterday is ready to be picked up. After Steve wakes up and can drive, of course. At least I have proof of what condition I'm in, i.e., non-drivable. I'm not quite so goofy as to try to argue the fact.

Preparations have been proceeding at a slow pace to get ready. Two loads of laundry have been done but there will be another tomorrow night before packing. Dishes have been washed, so the kitchen will be clean unless somebody decided to eat in the meantime. I plan to bring the Kindle, but that's likely more habit and optimism than a reflection of my real expectation of use. Somebody remind me to bring the charger. It fits both the Kindle and the cell. I do have solid expectations of needing the latter. "Hello. Yes I'm fine. My PT schedule is nutzo but you might try a visit at ___. Where are you? Can you please bring___? Will you double check that the DVR is set to record ____? Oops, here's the nurse for more torture sessions, gotta go."

The hose is watering the back yard. It'll be a real challenge to take the walker out through the rocks to turn it on/off after surgery. The plants better be happy for what they get, that's all! It is a desert down here, doncha know. I didn't set a timer on it exactly, but the lady who brings her haircutting tools on house calls will be showing up at just about the perfect time to shut it off. We'll do the cut out on the patio, so less fuss about the mess.

And so far the breeze isn't kicking up pollen. I know: I was just out. I can't even smell the orange blossoms today, and now that they've started, they should remain overpowering for weeks. So knock on wood. I've been trying to avoid kickstarting the nose dripping sneezing coughing because I can't help but fear the surgical staff will mistake it all for the flu and cancel my surgery. Then what do I do?

Anyway, I'm getting a very short cut. That way it won't matter if I muss it in the hospital or can't make it into the shower for a few days. As long as I finger comb it to follow the directions of the cowlicks, it'll look like somebody thought that's how it should look.

Haha! Fooled ya!

OK, maybe a 5 minute nap before she gets here....