Assume I have a new residence.
Probably a "pound you in the ass" prison.
Most likely, because I have murdered at least 4 members of my immediate and extended family.
My mother's going to bite the dust first.
Yep, she's the one I want to see gone the worst.
This is my fault, and I know it, but it doesn't change the homicidal urge.
We're the same person.
Yep, from the sarcasm to the flirting to the wit to the voice and laugh - we're the same person.
And if you ever questioned why your friends are your friends - it's because they're not you.
They are ENOUGH like you that you get along and have common interests.
But so different from you that you can have conversations and questions and good times.
But mom's too much like me.
Or I'm too much like her.
And if I could have pulled it off quietly, I would have slipped 4 of these Hydrocodone pills into her Diet Pepsi an hour ago.
Oh, wait, I'm completely off topic.
I was writing this to assure you all that I am well and good.
Recovering nicely, despite set-backs I caused MYSELF to have.
Thank you for all your well wishing and worrying.
It's strange to think about how our lives have intersected.
It's even stranger when I think about the fact that each of you are people I would worry about if you were in the same situation.
Odd what this blogging has morphed into.
It's like a family.
But one you don't want to kill.
Because they don't invade your space.
And force feed you sweets.
And make you stay in a bed.
And carry you - YES, carry you - to the bathroom.
I DIDN'T have LEG surgery, crazies!!!!!!!
My legs WORK!
Ranting getting a bit out of control.
Original post has turned to a stream of consciousness.
Obviously the latest pain pill has kicked in.
Say goodnight, Gracie.