This post is brought to you by morphine. And insomnia.

I’ve been hiding under a rock for the last week or so.

I tend to do this when Aunt Flo is in town.  I curl up on the couch with my heating pad, abuse ibuprofen, pass clots the size of nickels, and wish I was dead.  Jerrad only gets close enough to hand me food, chocolate and booze.  Really, it’s just safer for all involved.

This month it was a little bit easier.  Long story short – only because I will blog in detail after my surgery -things did eventually start happening after my last post, and I’m scheduled for surgery in the morning.  Knowing that this was likely my last extra-shitty period made it easier to bear.

Well that and the morphine.  I have to say, I’m a big fan.  I’m not taking a very big dose, so it’s not like I’m sleeping all the time or drooling on myself.  It’s just enough that I’m relaxed and that being in pain just doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.

Ok, so I might be hallucinating and seeing pretty colors, but I’m pretty sure that’s because I’m still not sleeping.  I’m just going to hope that works itself out as some of these other things work themselves out.

I’m assuming surgery, even something relatively minor like this, will put me out of commission for a bit, so don’t be surprised if I crawl back under my rock for another week or so.  I plan to lay on the couch, make out with my morphine, and continue marathon-watching my latest sci-fi obsession, Farscape.