Showtime is in twelve hours from right now, as I write. I'm hungry, sore, and cranky. I'm nervous, but I am so glad to be in the homestretch. I only have two jobs now, to take a last handful of antibiotics before bed, and to show up on time in the morning. From there, my active participation will be limited. I can handle lying still and letting the next couple days just happen to me.
I don't know whether I'll be posting tomorrow night. I don't want to miss a day, but I'm still negotiating for a sub. I asked the man to write a post-op update, but he's not keen on the idea of stepping in for a guest hosting gig. I'll ask another time or two, but I may end up ruining my perfect record of posting every single day. Of course, I have been known to crank out less than stellar essays when I had nothing interesting to say, for the sake of that record. I might poke randomly at the keyboard on my phone tomorrow night, in a morphine haze, just to preserve my perfect attendance. It might end up reading "wpeoi weian' 3 dadwe" (or whatever the Android AI autocorrects that to), but you'll know it's really me. I'd prefer something more coherent, but that might involve me skipping dose of pain pills, and as big as this surgery is, I'm not inclined to do that.
I'm off to take my last antibiotics and make sure I have my phone charger in my overnight bag. Think happy thoughts for me on Monday.
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