Dear Internet, it’s me Becca

I don’t want this to turn into one of those posts where I just complain at all of you about things that you don’t want to hear about and have no control over. But I have very little to talk about except the fact that despite my upgrade to a post surgical bland diet and the ability to eat food like flan I still have had one crappy week where I haven’t felt good for longer than an hour at a time and only then because I took more medicine than was advisable.

I don’t really know what to do or why I’m writing to the internets, like some grand pull of strength from the world wide web could somehow heal me; I can only physically endure so much discomfort, only so much of not being able to pick up my daughter, and only so much of asking my Mom to fetch me things that I need, before I have to start venting about it to the world at large.

Today we were going to try to go out to lunch, out while the exterminator came to destroy our new wasp population (it’s all fun and games here). But after attempting to get out of bed multiple times I gave up and barely made it out to sit on my porch while the man with the noxious chemicals dispersed them throughout the house.

To add a little salt to the already fetid wound, I got the first bill from the hospital – I’m pretty sure that common decency requires that they give you enough time to properly heal before asking you for money.

Again, I don’t know why I’m bothering you all with this – maybe somehow my current situation can simply make you feel better about what ever is going on in your lives.



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