Post-Pyromaniac Recovery

Here I am, post-Pyromaniac Elmer’s Gluemanola. The ice pack had to go on for 15 minutes every hour for two days, and that is a long time to sit there and see only the fuzzies. Hence, the attractive positioning of the glasses.

  My puglet is guarding over her now semi-blind sleeping companion. I learned recently that Pugs were bred to be bed-warmers for the Chinese royalty. This is what my Pug excels at — bed-warming. Actually, my Pug could easily be a hearing dog for the hearing impaired. She can even differentiate footsteps outside my bedroom. It took her months to acclimate to hearing my eldest coming home in the wee hours of the morning when he moved back from college. I had to explain to her that he really was a pack member. “Think of him as a pack floater,” I said to her. “He floats in and out, of his own accord, retaining his pack membership but trying to establish his own pack at the same time.” She growled, “But, he didn’t live here when I came to live here…”

The doctor removed the foreign body the other doctor had put in my tear duct five years ago and everything went very well. He declared me a recovered Pyromaniac. What a relief! It was rumored in my father’s family that my mostly Native American great-grandfather was a pyromaniac in Iowa. But not an intentional pyro — he was just fascinated with fires and building them strong and powerful. It was an accident that when the place he built them in burned down. Ooopps!

My biggest disappointment with the surgery was being forced to awaken and leave the surgery center. It was the best dang sleep I’ve had in a gazillion months. Deep, deep, can’t hear a blessed thing type of sleep.

So, I should be all set to get back to work next week and get my next book review posted. I just can’t bend over below my waist or lift more than ten pounds. What a bummer!!!