*Update: We caught Princess' leg in time and after 2 days of high dose IV antibiotics we were declared safe to go home, especially as they know that if anything changes we will race her back in. Her appetite has returned with a vengeance and I told her that they only discharged us because they can't afford to feed her anymore. That and we were getting too noisy -- we were messing around and fighting for space on her bed when I tried to share it with her. I also oiled my hamster's wheel so I actually got almost 7 hours of sleep last night! (I know you were on the edge of your seat wondering if I would ever get around to it, so I wanted to set your mind at ease.)
*Author's Note: I forgot to mention that I will be working on smoking myself retarded again, and I mean that in the PC dictionary term: a total slowing, stunting of my mental processes, not as a derogatory word for anyone. Princess' room is on the 6th floor and they are working on some construction right outside her window with a huge crane, and we love watching them haul their cooler up and down each day. I want to get a case of beer for them to haul up and watch people's reactions to that.
Just as we were celebrating Princess' return to home, her leg started up again yesterday. The cut started weeping again and her leg started to get red and hot. Sugarbowl took her to the E.R. and they admitted her again. This time they are talking about doing exploratory surgery to see if there is a foreign object in her leg that is preventing it from healing. Good thing the lazy arses didn't unpack a darn thing yet, so all Sugarbowl had to do was drag it out of her room and pile it up in the living room, ready to haul it back in and take up residency in their room again (she got the same room). I unpack almost immediately whenever I return home from anywhere that I had to pack to go to. Even if I can only start it before I have to collapse in bed, I hit it first thing in the morning -- after my coffee, of course. Sugarbowl can't afford to lose another week of work because we are too poor, so we will be tag teaming it this time. I will stay with her most of the time and Sugarbowl will come when she can and relieve me when possible. So depending on my boredom levels, which promise to be sky high, I may blog more or less. Sometimes when I get too bored I can't do a thing but think about how bored I am; other times I have to do anything to keep from becoming destructive and destroying everything around me.
I didn't get any sleep last night. I was worried about Princess and had bad dreams all night. I laid in bed for most of the night with my beady, blood-shot eyes wide open, listening to my hamster run on his very squeaky wheel, wondered why I hadn't oiled it yet, and resisting the urge to tell him that his buns and thighs should be perfectly toned by now and he is more than ready for swimsuit season. I tossed and turned and broiled alive. I had to push the little dog off of me before I split my skin like an over-cooked hot dog. I got up to pee about 500 times and mashed pillows over my head to block out the horrible squeaking of his hideous wheel. I had visions of what this house will look like by the time I came back -- making me sweat even more -- and pondered whether I should leave a list of things that need to be done and not left for me to do when I get back. They will never see overflowing trash cans, sinks stacked to the ceiling with dirty dishes, the pets' empty water bowls, mountains of dirty, wet clothes left on the bathroom floor... I shudder to think of it all. They will sit on a pile of garbage, watch TV and never notice all the crap they are sitting on should not be there. Walk over all the clothes on the bathroom floor, forget to put down a towel when they shower, get the whole mess soaking wet and slow down my getting new linoleum down.
I hope Princess gets better soon and that the house doesn't resemble a garbage dump by the time I get back. I don't want to have to explain that we are not taking any more loads of sh*t, so please go to a different dump.
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