Recovering from surgery would be much easier, I suspect, if I didn’t also have a Violent Stomach Bug from Hades to contend with. Seems my little wiggly friend saw opportunity in my temporary weakness and just dived right in to enjoy himself, frolicking unchecked in my intestines. Which are next to… the spot where my uterus was. Would be. Isn’t. And therefore, the whole of my abdomen is a circus of epic badness.
And the sun is shining, the mountains are flirtatious, and the Giant Thermometer on the Fence is showing a glorious 42 degrees.
So I’m just saying, Germs: don’t expect any birthday flowers this year, because you’re not getting any.