Got a little Brie to go with this whine?

My rotator cuff is apparently shredded. I go in for an MRI
on Monday. The doctor now thinks the “cradle” has been
torn…if that’s so, I’m looking at SIX MONTHS of recovery
time and more than one surgery. All I know is that it hurts
worse than when I had my 13 pound baby.

I just cleaned out my car…I’ve been asking Girlie to clean
it out for a MONTH, since I can’t carry anything and it
finally got so messy, the officer at the GATE had me open my
doors to make sure I wasn’t helping an inmate escape.

I had a bunch of reports I had to generate and print at Not
SO Darling’s office…this is work for him…and all he
could do was sigh AND tap his foot.

I have to go to SF tomorrow for training and I’m taking tax
junk to work on…still not done…and I ask if we can stay
home from the beach since I have so much to do. BIG SIGH.
He’s COUNTING on me driving like a bat home from SF so he
can “relax” at the beach. Couldn’t I take it with me and do
it there?

Just hitch me up to the plow.

I can’t use any of the drugs I’ve got because I flippin’
have to drive or calculate or function.

I hate being a grown up.


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