I am hoping that this doesn't turn into a bummer summer. I am one week away from getting these cotton pickin' stitches out. The procedure wasn't too bad, kind of painful. Done with local anesthesia in the doctor's office. A few more stitches than I expected (Cletus counted seven). And the stitches really aren't that bad. But apparently I am allergic to the waterproof bandages. The adhesive area is now raw and painful. And in a valiant attempt not to rip my stitches out, I am on limited activities. No swimming. No golf. No bowling. Nothing too strenuous. Ugh. That leaves skeeball, putt putt golf and walking. Ho hum.
Well, it won't last forever. I have been to the library twice already. It is sad when you read all of the books your favorite author has written. Can't they write faster? Catching up on my fav's latest endeavors, I read four books last week. But now I am forced to try new authors. So I researched the latest Agatha Mystery author award winners. Wish me luck.
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