It's not a health-threatening situation, per se, but I had major surgery Monday, the biggest I've ever had, and I'm going a little nuts with the pace of recovery right now. You can only re-read the latest issues of all those slick junky celebrity magazines so many times before you begin the descent into existential despair. It's a slippery slope, and it starts with Britney Spears.Also, I'm human, and I wouldn't mind a few well-wishes (and maybe a few boxes of Godivas - milk chocolate only, please) from my loyal hordes of readers. Boxes can be sent to: Bella's House, Chicago, IL, in care of her mommy, who's taking the best possible care of her. Comments are also accepted, although somewhat less appreciated.
What's driving me most crazy? Not being able to work out. It will be several weeks before I can resume the intense cardio again, which my brain chemistry requires for proper levels of feel-goodiness, and three months before I can hit the weight machines again, which is a LONG damn time for someone who loves weight training as much as I do. Also, not being able to be present for a lot of cool comedy developments happening on my scene is frustrating - comedy festival stuff, TV shows, management deals, new media plans for the Bastion - all are happening without me.
On the plus side, being required to be lazy and helpless is kind of fun (for the first few days, at least). And I have to say, the flannel PJ uniform is a pretty sweet part of the deal. I'm wearing them everywhere, even during my brief forays into the "real world." Look at me weird all you want to, waitstaff of Andersonville. I'm wearing jammy pants, and I'm not changing for you. Also nice is the freedom to go weeks without shaving (except the pits, those gotta stay smooth), and days without the usual requirements of feminine upkeep. Shampoo? Eyeliner? What are those? I don't care anymore.
What else is nice? Having all day to loll around watching the tube, playing with my cats, joking around with my mom, doing lots of pleasure reading, and nibbling my way through fruit baskets that thoughtful friends have sent my way.
It's a major treat to be hanging with my mom so much, even though I'm sure she's bored out of her mind most of the time as well. I also worry that I'm picking up more and more of her habits and thought patterns the more time we spend together. I will be writing more about that in the next few days in an attempt to halt my transformation into a tiny sixty-something blonde woman who is as obsessed with cat hair and methods of removal thereof as she is with the fiber count of every food product she introduces into her digestive system. Whee! It's going to be a delightful few posts. And, don't forget, it's G-O-D-I-V-A.