Saturday, November 19, 2011

Don't Let The Green Grass Fool Ya'

Or, "Yesterday's Mail."

I beg your pardon. I throw myself on your mercy. I even ask for leniency, since no mail went out today. I slept until after 1 PM. Last night felt like nothing more than a bad dream. The illusion lasted just long enough for JC to hear me moseying to the bathroom, before he appeared bearing gifts: three prescriptions. Then the memories of last night came staggering back like a spavined mare on her way to the glue factory. I couldn't help wincing.  Not supposed to tense up. That's a no-no. 

So, I relaxed, ate, rehydrated, slept some more. And here I am. Silly me, forgot to post a photo of yesterday's mail. The number 5 seems to be the It Girl lately. I wonder if JC will let me dictate five postcards so he can pop them in the mailbox tomorrow? Here he comes. Shall I ask him? BRB.


  1. Oh dear, I do hope you feel better soon.

  2. Mrs. Duffy, oh, I do. The steroids are guarding the fort; the pain pills and muscle relaxers are manning the guns. I got out of bed this afternoon. :) Thanks for your hope.

    I know people are tired of hearing about all this, but I am even more tired of living through it. Trying to avoid another surgery put me in this position, but 6 surgeries are enough for me. However, I am determined to be able to stand at my easel, draw, paint, and live well again. I might not be able to run like it's recess, but I have faith that I'll be better. :)

    I've been healthy and I've had a great life, so this is just a pot hole I'm temporarily stuck in. The only thing I complain about is not being able to lower my neck. I love this letter-writing lifestyle too much to give up. :) See you in the mail, very soon.