Carry on

My husband is out of hospital, where he got his innards re-connected. He spent a week resting (I slept in a chair) and came home yesterday. I had hoped that he would stay at least until MONDAY, because I wanted to go to Sephora and have them show me how to do eyeliner for my aging eyes. (Oh, you know….at a certain age, your lids get crepe-y and your liner looks like crap. I already have the highly unattractive lips wrinkles, brought rapidly to my attention the other day when I used some kind of magic marker lipstick, which promptly feathered out and made me look as if I had escaped from a nursing home.) I wanted to get my eyebrows done and a facial…but my plans were just plain ruint by his release.

So he is home and drugged to his eyeballs. He can’t lift anything heavier than a book and he can’t be left alone. He gets lost in the house. I find it very irritating that he just won’t stay put. So he is drugged enough to manage the pain, but not to be amenable to staying in one place.

He is not happy with his diet (soft) and today, is bitching about how he wants so real food. Well, Dude, somebody had their hands inside your guts for six hours. You are stapled to a fare-thee-well (I personally hate staples.) He is smoking again and hiding it, which really is just SO MUCH TROUBLE. Lisi was over yesterday and gave him the wonk eye about smoking (which he is pretending he is not doing). Unlike me, Lisi pulls no punches. Here’s the deal and that’s the way it is. You aren’t supposed to smoke. It hinders healing and with COPD, is a really stupid thing to do. So if you continue to smoke, you must be stupid.

He was none too happy with it all and CLAIMED that no one had ever said ANYTHING to him about his smoking.

Oh, please.

He just turned his brain off when the subject was broached. Every doctor he has ever SEEN talks about his smoking. He is supposed to stop and when he was in the ICU, actually did stop. But he still thinks he is 19 as well as thinking that everyone has vices and smoking is not really so bad, compared to being a alcoholic or a drug addict.

And if that is so, I’d like to know what MY vice is. I have to do life stone cold sober and it is not all that much fun. And that is all I have to say about that.

I’m tearing up my sewing room today. I have a ton of magazines that I am absolutely torn about–keep them? eBay them? How often do I leaf thru them? How useful are they to me?

I have no idea.

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