Today, Lewis jumped the Invisible Fence, and I had to go down the street to fetch him back. As I was walking back up my driveway, I see a black BMW SUV slow down and then stop a few feet away. For some reason, this did not freak me out, whereas not long ago, I would have felt frightened by this, as if I were being stalked. Anyway, next thing you know, I hear my name. Turns out it's a friend who lives in the next town. He was driving home from Greenwich, where he had played in a charity golf tournament. So, I invited him in, and we had some Mike's Hard Lemonade and shot the breeze. Topics like lawn care, property taxes, length of commutation time to the city.
It was so very small-town that it was like the Yoga Chickie version of a Norman Rockwell painting.
I'm still awake now because my mouth tastes like pennies from bloody post nasal drip, and I'm growing weary of not being able to blow my nose, let alone breathe out of it. And South Park is on. I can't wait until Monday, when my super-awesome doctor (hello R - I expect to hear that you made it to practice in the morning!) removes my bandages or whatever the hell is keeping me from being able to utilize my sinuses as something other than a repository for blood and pain.
I was talking to a guy today who had qthe same surger (septoplasty) two years ago, and he told me that when his doctor removed the bandages, it was like this intense, never-experienced-before moment of being able to breathe unencumbered. Like having been blind and now seeing. Or having had a lot of wax in your ears and then getting it suctioned out. Gross, I know, but the sound of fingers on a keyboard suddenly feels ear-deafeningly loud. It's kind of surreal. And I can't wait to feel that sensation - of breathing clearly.
OK, back to South Park, and then maybe my eyes will close of their own will.