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i hate not being well. hate, hate, hate.
Jul. 13th, 2007 09:39 pmI am consoling myself by trying to remember that it does not, really, take just one day to recover from surgery, thank you very much, & it's normal to not be back to perfect health the day afterward.
It isn't really helping, because my face is still swollen and painful and annoying, I am more sick to death of applesauce and soup than I can possibly explain* & would really like to eat some real food, I look like a ridiculous chipmunk, I am tired of holding ice packs to my face & swallowing Tylenol, & I very rudely fell asleep when Joel was visiting me this afternoon & didn't wake up until after he'd had to leave to work the show. (I hope Hitchhiker's went well. I wanted to go. I was sadly passed out.)
(* In some small amount of explanation, have this: my parents & I are planning to go to the outdoor theater fest tomorrow, which means we need to pack a dinner for between Mum's show & the Wooden O play, & the thought of eating soup/pudding/something not chewable tomorrow makes me want to sit down and cry. Well, I'm already sitting down, I've been sitting down all day, so let's just say I want to cry.)
Also, I have nothing to read. That is of course a blatant lie, but what I mean is that every time I pick up a book I am already bored with it. God, the ennui of the ill. ERRRRUGH.
It isn't really helping, because my face is still swollen and painful and annoying, I am more sick to death of applesauce and soup than I can possibly explain* & would really like to eat some real food, I look like a ridiculous chipmunk, I am tired of holding ice packs to my face & swallowing Tylenol, & I very rudely fell asleep when Joel was visiting me this afternoon & didn't wake up until after he'd had to leave to work the show. (I hope Hitchhiker's went well. I wanted to go. I was sadly passed out.)
(* In some small amount of explanation, have this: my parents & I are planning to go to the outdoor theater fest tomorrow, which means we need to pack a dinner for between Mum's show & the Wooden O play, & the thought of eating soup/pudding/something not chewable tomorrow makes me want to sit down and cry. Well, I'm already sitting down, I've been sitting down all day, so let's just say I want to cry.)
Also, I have nothing to read. That is of course a blatant lie, but what I mean is that every time I pick up a book I am already bored with it. God, the ennui of the ill. ERRRRUGH.
