Sometimes shit just works out the way it's supposed to. I think I used to drive John nuts with my whole, "it'll work itself out" philosophy. In theory it's awesome, but in reality it can make you extra-super nervous waiting around on it. A month ago Angie called and said she and Rachel were planning a visit and I was excited but also disappointed that I wouldn't get to spend much time with them on account of I work a million hours. Then I go to the orthopedist and he tells me that I really need to have my arm fixed. I schedule the surgery date and the office lady gives me a choice of July 20 or 27. The 20 is the day after my birthday. The 27 is the day Angie and Rachel fly in. I say yay for the 20 because I haven't had a really kickass birthday since I turned eleven and Mama and Daddy bought me Rocker Barbie and then took me to Water World USA in Maggie Valley for the weekend. Ironically enough, when the girls get here I want to take Rachel Here. It looks like so! much! fun! My point is, all the workmans comp. stuff worked out and the date of the surgery worked out and even though I'll be down a limb, I'll get to spend all the time in the world with my suster and niece.
This being our last weekend with four arms, we've cleaned and cleaned. Because we're hermits, we don't usually give a rat's taint if there're piles of towels and blankets and books and cat leavings on every semi-level surface. This has given us the opportunity to help our home smell it's best. Which is still a shade or two below a kennel. Or a house with five cats, two litter boxes and several pairs of smelly shoes. I even scrubbed the bath tub. I grunted and sweat and Comet-ed the hell outta that tub.
John bought me a Blackberry Torch for my birthday. I'm pretty sure it's too much phone for me, but it sure is nifty-fun learning about it. What I'm reading: The Vicious Vet by M.C. Beaton. What I'm watching: Frasier and a 48 Hours Mystery about the Long Island serial killer.