Dear Diary,
So I'm home. And I'm disappointed. No a**hole, I'm not disappointed to be home. Home is where the heart is. And the computer and directv. Huh? The family is covered in the heart part. They are what keeps me alive. They keep the blood moving through my veins. They can also give you heart attacks. Those kids are... normal. But when you're painfully recovering from a surgery, normal seems pretty f***ing rambunctious. I'm disappointed I didn't lose more while I was in the hospital. I'm sure it had to do with my new addiction to Italian Icees. They should really list the calories on the label and make sure they list the addictive substances included in those things. Huh? Also yes... Well, actually no. I am not addicted to pain meds. I'm doing ok without the more powerful ones. Well kinda. I have some tylenol with codeine that barely works. I feel like my head is sewn onto my shoulders and is hanging there perilously. With the wrong move I feel like its gonna tumble down the steps. Maybe the pain meds helped me to ignore that thought, but I can't be sure. What I can be absolutely clear of is that last night I'd have gladly given up several pints of blood to be back in my hospital room with access to some peace and quiet, some good pain meds and yes, Italian Icees. Since thats not gonna happen and since I need to work on getting better each day, so I can continue to lose weight the hard way, I'm going back to sleep. Huh? F*** off. Proper sleep is important for your metabolism.
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