the other side

I had every intention of writing a "goodbye cruel world" post the night before I went into surgery this week, full of apologies to the various people I have injured over the years--the guy who always got the lion's share of my wrath at Amigo's when I was in my 20s, the old woman who worked at the shop at the North Shore Shopping Center where I stole a tiny Smurfette figurine when I was in the 4th grade, the guy I made cry at the Free Street Taverna after I pulled him aside to offer helpful advice about his personality, the woman who let me move in with her when I was living in a van and I treated her like she was my understudy. As I was thinking about it, I could sort of see it might start funny but turn into cloying treacle. (Cloying treacle. Look it up, DeVivo.) And, I really do dislike too much sentiment.

Instead, I wandered aimlessly around my friend Liana's house thinking about...nothing.

Now, here I am, almost a week later, sitting in a neck brace with a restless, drug-addled mind, staring at Blame it on Rio on a giant flatscreen TV on the first floor of a three-story townhouse Groom and I rented for the winter. (It's not a huge luxurious place. It's vertical living with thin walls. I'm not complaining, but I do want to clarify that I'm not bragging either. If I'm ever going to brag, it will be about the remodeled kitchen we might have someday. Someday.)

I should probably point out right about now that I'm on an apothecary's cocktail of pain relievers, nerve blockers, and muscle relaxants. I don't know where my hands end and the keyboard begins. And, the line between reality and fantasy is very, very thin.

And I have the worst case of dry mouth.  But, I did get outside and take a little walk today, so the baby steps are working out for me.

More soon, dear lovely people who actually read this silly blog. More soon. I just wanted to check in to let you know I made it to the other side. Not the other side, like, "stay away from the light Carol Ann" other side. I mean, I woke up from surgery.

That last paragraph there? That's why I'm not writing a full post--I can feel myself buzzing the sweetness tower. (Sorry, Goose.) These drugs are making me sentimental, overly sensitive, and just a little clingy.