Six Past Midnight
I was going to write about my most recent, often-alluded-to-never-elaborated-upon black-edged days, but, neh. Maybe tomorrow. I hate bellyaching anyway.
And I'm working on that ghost story, honest and for true. It's a true story, and it starts in the bookstore, oh, about 13 years ago now. I promise you, it's a goody. Ask Des Moines Girl. I sent her an account of it last year.
But right now, I'm thinking about the dr.'s appontment I have in the morning, and how I had to fight to get it moved to tomorrow, since it was going to be rescheduled for Nov. 30th, and I'm in some pain and, well, I don't really want to give this stuff another month to spread. I want it out of me. Now. I got stuff to do.
I'll let you know when the surgery happens. That's the route I've decided to take. Tomorrow I tell my water-walking doctor, and hope she agrees.