Things in my news:

My roommate left town for the next three months. He is working in Baton Rouge for FEMA apparently. He left on Sunday with a few days notice…Great for him. For me it means I now live in my 1400 square foot heaven pretty much all by myself since T balls never got his stuff together enough to move in. I thought of some ploys to make money on my huge place while the kitties were away, even considering subletting his room out and keeping all of the money to pay my medical expenses and various other financial disasters. This would be karmically bad though, right, since he is paying for rent on his room and his share of the utilities while playing in the mud in Louisiana? I think it might be, but since I have nothing else to sell, it still wanes in the back of my mind as a possibility. I might go to hell for it, err…actually maybe money hell even? But it doesn’t matter, since I have nothing else to offer anyone in exchange for something like cold, hard cash.

AND THEN, to add cherries to the whipped cream I get the rest of my aortic arch sliced out like the last piece of pie at a party next Friday. My lil’ arch is the last piece of drama I have to be concerned with for quite a while, might I add. Though I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t gonna wrap it up with dacron and twisty ties like the last time. But it’s not very much, he assured me. Okay, cut it out. But are you going to have to slice me all the way down my sternum? He doesn’t know. So yeah, gotta get used to that sternum crack thing, as he is unsure of how flexible my bones really are when considering stretching them open and all. Then I realized that maybe it would be less painful to cut the whole fucker open and spare me the pain of stretching just the top of my ribs open for ten hours. Eeek. They have to stop your heart for these surgeries, which has been done before, but it still a bit creepy with foresight, and even in hindsight. They lower your temperature in the OR quite a bit too, which means I am creepy and purple and white and dead-looking for several hours while they plug and stitch away. So yeah, April 21. Check in on the 18th or 19th.

I got into this argument with my mother about this stuff. She was like (when considering the 19th as a surgery date or the 21st) just get it over with deanna, you’ve had plenty of time to rest. There is something to be said for that and something else to be said for the fact that that literally means I have a chance of having the next 7 days be my last days of freedom. Or my last days period. Give me a break already.

My STD (short term disability) ends on June 24th. So I should be returning to my former digs at my work sometime either before then or in July. Good thing my job is secure in the fact that the company seems to be growing exponentially at this point.

Speaking of lowered body temperatures, my fingers are freezing…