You, by which I mean "y'all", have been immensely helpful on my rough days, and I don't mean to give you short shrift by passing you over in the "Most Helpful Comment on Pending Surgery" category, but better luck next time, kids.
When I told my sister Gretchen, musician, mother, and retired blogger, that I was going to have not one but THREE surgeries over the next six months (jaw, foot, foot), she burst out laughing and said:
"You are going to be SO addicted to PAIN PILLS!"
And then she went "HAW HAW HAW HAW" for three or four minutes. In fairness, I did too, because dude. HAW HAW HAW. Of course that was the first thing she thought! In the context of our family, it's pretty shocking that my addictions are limited to the socially acceptable 1) coffee and 2) Wife Swap. I guess the "socially acceptable" part is debatable on the second, but hey, somebody out there has to be watching it if it's on for seven hours a day on Lifetime, AM I RIGHT?
There was even one pathetic stretch of summer which was actually very awesome, during which I had a month of nothing to do in Charlottesville (it was summer, I'd finished working, class didn't start for a while, housemates weren't around yet) so I just sat on my front porch and smoked cigarettes. Every morning I crossed the bridge over the tracks to the JPA Fasmart (no, there's not a T in there) and bought a pack of cigarettes, then walked back over to sit on my porch and smoke them. I even worked on my smoking-a-cigarette-while-riding-a-bike technique, which is possibly the single stupidest thing you could do. Especially when you have undiagnosed asthma. And you live in a hilly town. Anyway my point is that even after all that effort I failed to become addicted to cigarettes, and went back to purchasing Zapp's Cajun CrawTator chips and weird sale beer.
As for words that hurt, there have not been any I can think of lately, either directed towards me or issuing from me. We had a hilarious Purim and a three-day dance party, and were woken up at six this morning when the security system alarm went off because Sophia was attempting to exit the side door in a pajama top and a smile (which was quickly replaced by tearful confusion) (to which we were sympathetic as we were experiencing the same thing ourselves).
Oh, and we had a hell of a time at the Nashville Flea Market. And I decided that we have to paint the living/dining room some low-VOC variation on Bedford Gray.
And it is one week until my surgery. Eep!