Yee-haw.

I get to go under the knife on March 9th. I take back what I said about not caring if I have to have surgery; my right arm will be strapped to my body for four to six weeks after. Dangit! How am I gonna drive my stick-shift, or take pictures, or do anything? Grrr.

Oh well, I am not the first person in the world to be right-armless, and I won't be the last. I was in a snit yesterday when I came home from the doctor's office, but I am acclimating myself to the idea. The pain is better today, so that is helping my mood.

Yesterday was the third anniversary of the day M and I met, and so my great plan was to surprise him with some goodies (a bottle of Chianti, some hazelnut chocolate thingies, and a Nerds rope--nothing like a touch of crass to set off the elegant) and a yummy dinner out at Taj Mahal, our favorite Indian restaurant. But he had to work overtime, so I was all aloooowne when I got back from the doctor and very sad. We went out to dinner anyway when he got home, even though it was late. I was all Percocet-ed out since I'd had to clean mud from twelve dog feet, which necessitated much shoulder movement, and I ordered the Punjabi curry which turned out to be veeerry spicy but I couldn't really feel the heat because of the Percocet. I brought the leftovers to eat at work today. We'll see if it turns my mouth inside out now that I have nothing to dull the heat.

All right. I'm off to proofread the bio of some dude with a funny name for a health and wellness website, and to eat.