My recovery is going nicely. I took my final pill last night, which is a bummer, because nothing tastes better than a delicious antibiotic capsule “hidden” inside a delicious blob of cream cheese. Yum. Instead of wearing a sock on my foot to protect my stitches, I am now wearing a bandana, which I think is a stronger look for me.
Mom said recovery is more important than anything. She said, “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better tomorrow.” and “Everybody gets knocked down. What matters is getting back up.” and “Let’s change that red bandana. You look like a gang-banger.”
Mom is trying to recover from being told that her almost-finished picture book, SuperBaby would be better as a chapter book. That was not good news for her, since she’s a picture book writer. She said, “Maybe I can try it.” and “I’m not sure I know HOW to write a chapter book.” and “I have a headache.”
I quickly ran to the couch and hopped up there so we could recover together. But mom never came. She keeps sitting at the computer mumbling and typing and typing and mumbling.
Don’t worry, Mom, you’ll feel better tomorrow….