While I don't feel fantastic, I'm much improved from how I felt just 24 hours ago. More stuff has come out of my nose in the last 4 days than the entirety of my post-surgery for the deviated septum and all that stuff, so that's sort of saying something. It's been pretty unpleasant. I'm sure you're so glad you just read this paragraph.
I stayed home from work yesterday and today. If tomorrow is half as bad as today, I still won't be able to talk on the phone all day at work, but I'm going to do my best to make it in there. Instead, I'll do other maintenance type things on accounts, but it will be good to be out of the house. Scratch that-- it will be good to FEEL like being out of the house.
Speaking of the house, today I was working on studying chemistry when all three pups went into a tizzy. I knew something was on the porch. It was a cold and wet day-- around 40 degrees, and out on the porch was a skinny pit bull bitch and a maybe 3 or 4 month old pup. It was heartbreaking. She seemed to think this was her house, and she tried to make a nest for herself and the pup on the porch, and my dogs were going bananas. She had that beaten-down look of a dog who has had to cower, poor thing, and they looked desperately hungry and cold. I wanted to give them some food and dry them off, but I knew there was just nothing I could do, and even for a short while I couldn't expose my pups to them. I called the animal control guy and he came over and took them away. The mother had a leash looking strap hooked to her collar, but the animal control fellow said it looked like it had been cut and not chewed off. We discussed it and sort of concluded these poor dogs had been dumped. I mean to follow up on that and see if I can help with them in any way at the shelter. Some people should not be allowed to have pets OR children. That episode put a sour damper on the day. I vow to rescue every dog I can reasonably rescue in this lifetime, but 3 at a time is a handful so I'm flush for pups. My friend Dianne says dogs are like martinis-- 2 is not enough, and 3 is too many. Actually, I'd like 4 or 5 martinis, but, I digress. Point is that my 3 little dogs are a handful. I'll do what I can, but that doesn't mean I'm not bothered by all the ones I can't save.
So. Chemistry. Bloody difficult. I've been doing fairly well up until now, but I'm at a sticky wicket with stoichiometry. See how defeated I am? I can't even be bothered to look that up and see if I've misspelled it. Anyway. I'm trying to sort through the mess, but it's painfully difficult. I realize there is a formulaic aspect to it and I just need to work through the steps until it becomes rote, but the homework system we have doesn't really have a way of telling you anything except it's all right or all wrong. All-or-nothing equations bug the stuffing out of me. I get absolutely no credit just for showing up in cute shoes. That's clearly unreasonable.
In general, the past few weeks I'm getting back on my feet and my head is clearing a little. My surgery was meant to be 4 hours, but it actually took 7. I didn't realize this, but Old_NFO told me that a rule of thumb is about a month recovery time for each hour you are under general anaesthesia. Holy crap. So, I suppose I'll be foggy for a few more months. I'm happy to be doing better in general, though. I'll try to get back on track with blogging in baby steps. The braces off the top teeth have been nice, and flossing feels SOOOO good. At least I have that to enjoy every day, whether or not I am snotty. When I chose the sobriquet of Phlegmfatale, I didn't actually intend to live up to the name, but apparently I'm an overachiever.