I am good at so many things.

I'm not really happy with how Tempurpedic makes me feel like a complete asshole for not having one of their mattresses.  I say this as I sit in the low-country of my wounded couch, which I managed to patch with an old coffee can and a pillow, and think its quite supportive.  (And you cant even see the repairs!)

Don't get me wrong, I'd love to own a Tempurpedic, but a bed which costs $6k (frame not included!) is a bit out of my range.  

Every time the commercial comes on, I see the man sitting on a regular bed, whimpering and crouching over in pain. (I feel your pain, half-naked man!)  And then I see the pretty girl's face emerging from water and wonder what that has to do with anything?  Will Tempurpedic also make me want to skinny dip?  If that's the case, sign me up.  I'll be right back, I just have to grab my check book... 

...

....

Not.  Anyway, that was a crude into into a random collection of thoughts.  

I haven't really said much to many people, but I had another minor surgery today that was non-foot-related.  I haven't said much, for selfish reasons.  I didn't want to go into it with everyone and hear unsolicited advice.  (Before you say anything... No. I didn't have any socially debatable procedures having to do with unwanted pregnancies.)  It's done now, and I feel like there's a barn animal inside my uterus, and he doth protest with his beaks and claws.  And daggers.  

I'm off work until Thursday due to said procedure, and I'm trying to plan my next trip while I have some downtime.  Suggestions?  I already filed my taxes.  Win!   

While I was going under from the sedative on the operating table today, I apparently made it clear to my doctor that she was not to speak to my mother under any circumstance.  Ha!  I have no recollection of this, nor would I ever say such a thing in my right mind!  Especially to someone who was hovering such a burning hot instrument over such a delicate personal belonging.  Especially because I was banking on the fact that she'd tell my mom everything, because that's why mom had come, because I never remember anything.

I told my mom exactly what orders I'd given the doctor, after I was told that I said it, while we were waiting for me to build up a full bladder in Recovery.   She called me later tonight and said "I know you're worried that I'd think that you're trying to hide things from me.  I'd never think that.  Really.  I was mulling it over, including your reaction, and I know why you said it - you always  like to be your own information filter, and you'd rather take any possible bad news and re-package it for your poor old mother.  I know exactly how you work."

She's totally right.  She knows EXACTLY how I work.  

I actually feel a lot closer to both of my parents lately (especially since my good father accompanied me to the lady-doctor last week and graciously sat amoungst preggos and WCU harlots, in his cute Irish hat which I bought him for Christmas, while I had my pre-surgery appointment), and I'm beginning to realize that they both would do absolutely anything for me with no question, and know me better than I'd ever guess.  It's frightening as hell, but God...  I'm blessed. 

I tried for so many years to hide things, or be the good daughter, the reporter of only the correct news in a pretty and non-offensive package.  Meanwhile they were observing my behavior and knew most of my juicy news anyway.  It's a good thing.  I'm feeling much more comfortable in my own skin these days because of discoveries such as this.

Its amazing what happens when your dad takes you to the gyno, and the following week you get to explain your cervix and all of its personality defects, in great detail, to your mother while she looks on in horror. 

I need a Valentine.