I'm BaaaaaaAhhhhhck!

For the most part.

My mom thought maybe excessive itching wasn't a normal side affect of Percoset and maybe I was allergic, (I may or may not have spoken to her via Skype, while stoned and using a jimmy-rigged fork on a stick to scratch myself excessively) which made me feel down-right indignant that Doug was standing idly by while I was itching to death which led to me guilt him (Doug) into calling the nurse who was like "yada yada" but also gave him a prescription for Tylenol with Codeine which he (Doug) immediately switched me too--to appease me {and my mother}, eliminate the itching, and--as a bonus--prevent his wife [me] from becoming a drug-addicted junkie.  (I was like, "pa-sha!").  

In Doug's defense, he's not medically daft.  He just didn't think I was allergic because I had no hives and my throat wasn't closing.  Luckily, my mom was there to say "What ev!  Get that girl off the Percoset!"  So he did.  

(But then I was like "ow!  this isn't as strong!  Give me back the good stuff!"  --But he didn't.)

Anyway, that was two days ago and I've slowly been coming back from the living dead since then.  More hours of actual consciousness, less scratching.  And yes, I am pooping again now.  Thanks for asking!  (What?  You didn't ask?  Tough.  My blog!) 

In fact, yesterday, I felt so good/foolishly optimistic/bored/stir crazy, that I said "YES!  Let's go to the Snow Festival!  I feel fine!  I'm up for it!"  (lies.)  

But more about that tomorrow.

But really, being drugged out of your gourd does have it's advantages.  For example, I love to sleep.  And I've gotten to do lots of it.  Granted, the dreams weren't the best and some were down-right scary, but on the upside, I've written numerous songs, poems and touching soliloquies in my sleep!  No matter I couldn't remember any of them when I woke up.  I know they were good and Abraham Lincoln, (who was with me when I wrote them,) also knows they were good.  And that's somethin'!

Also, I haven't had to do a dang thing around the house or solve a single little boy dilemma or do a single errand or church assignment or anything.  (Note to self:  re-start Percoset.)

The down side is, tonight when Doug left to take Maxwell to piano, Gabe cried "DA-DAHHHH!" for -like- 10 minutes.  Not having seen me much for a week evidently led him to forget that I'M the one who pushed the little sucker from MY BIRTH CANAL!!!  (Over sharing again?  Sorry, but again...tough.)

So anyway, I suppose my drug vacation is over.   

I've got to go brain-wash Gabe now.

See you tomorrow.