That was last Wednesday. Essentially, I've lost another week to the couch, having only enough brain power and attention span to make a few of these.
I suppose at this point I could wax on comically about my 7 hour San Remo emergency room experience. I suppose I could describe in vivid 1940's war era detail the underground, secret tunnel that David and I had to traverse after parking in the wrong lot. Or about the drunk in the bed behind me screaming about his god, making love, his children, his land and alcohol -- none in very flattering light. Or about the security guard and 90 year old respiratory patient trying to shut him up. Or I could, at this point, write a witty essay about how important it is to have nice looking pjs and clean slippers, just in case you are ever whisked off to the ER whilst you are donning said dress. (mental note: buy new pjs and slippers).
But instead, because my mental capacity is about tapped, I'm just going to tell you about how freakin' inspirational it was to be surrounded by old ladies in the hospital each covered by a hand crocheted afghan. Honestly, if I didn't know that I was only there for the stupid stomach flu, I would have thought that I had died and gone to crocheted afghan heaven. Four of the 6 folks in the room with me were sweetly sleeping (or trying to be as not miserable as possible) under multicolored, well-loved blankets. (I don't know if the drunk had one, I couldn't see him).
So if you'll excuse me now, I'm going to do a little work on this...just to be ready for next time.