I talked to the titty surgeon yesterday. I was much relieved when she told me "I don't think it's anything bad, so don't worry about that." But she still wants to take the duct out and have a look at whatever is in there. So I won't know for sure if everything is ok until next week. My surgery is on April 11 and the nurse said it takes a couple of days to get the biopsy results back.

I'm still going to be edgy until the results come back, but I am cheered by what she said. I don't think she would say something that positive if she thought there was much chance of it being malignant. I mean, I've been pretty anxious this entire time and she's never given me the "don't worry" speech before. I don't want to get my hopes up or down at this point... I think I'm just going to try not to think about it much. At least until the surgery day gets closer, anyway. Oddly, I haven't even BEGUN to stress out about what that entails. But I'm sure I'll get on it at some point this week.

It's bea-u-ti-ful outside today! The sun is shining, the birds are singing. And even though my feet are FREEZING, I've got the patio door open, much to the delight of the cats who are enthralled by the aforementioned birds, and no doubt entertaining themselves with gory little fantasies of disembowelment and dismemberment. The little dears.

Speaking of whom, what the hell is WRONG with these idiot felines of mine? I'm entertaining a gory little fantasy of my own this morning, namely that I can paint in watercolor; and it is driving my cats absolutely mad with curiosity. A couple of days ago Lunama managed to dump one of the cups full of water all over my coffee table. This morning, I left the table unattended for less than a minute while I went to pee and when I came back she was standing on my painting with her face in the water cup, and when I shooed her away (none too kindly, I might add) I saw where she had dripped water on the page. Just in the last couple of minutes Thomanasina has been up there drinking from the paint-infested rinse water, and the Punkman just took a casual stroll across the tabletop, trying to look non-chalant as if he'd just decided to take a little detour on his way to the window.

You'd think they'd never seen cups full of liquid sitting around here before. (Snort. Like anyone who lives here EVER takes the glass containing the remains of their drink to the kitchen before it solidifies and/or grows half an inch of blue hair. Other than me, I mean.)

Odd little observation I've made recently: I feel very guilty when I take the time to make art. I feel like I should only do it as a last resort, when everything else I ought to be doing is done. House clean, bills paid, filing done, time spent with family, exercise, etc ad nauseum. I don't feel all that guilty about letting an entire day disappear into the computer or a good book, but sitting down with paint or pens and paper feels like a self-indulgent waste of time. Yet I admire the discipline of other people who work on their art every day. Weird.

Why do I feel this way? Is it because I'm not all that good at what I'm trying to do? I don't know. But lately I've been trying to ignore the little voice from my inner grown-up that is constantly bitching about how messy the apartment is, and just take the time to do things I want to do, guilt-free. Everyone else around here does, why not me? I just know I need a break from stressing myself out. Last week the only things I accomplished were reading two good books and doing three bad sketches. And it was nice. Well, I did cook once and I cleaned the kitchen, but that's it. Oh, and I nagged and got the cat boxes cleaned and the trash taken out, because while I can grit my teeth and wade through a knee-deep sea of assorted crap on the floor, I cannot deal with nasty smells. Oh, and I got ALL the damn bills paid for a change. And ran us a little short of money because I simply CANNOT get it through my thick skull that we cannot survive two weeks with only two hundred dollars in the bank. I don't know why we can't, but every time I've tried it we always wind up scrounging change out of the couch for gas and assorted miscellaneouses by the beginning of week two.

Anyway, I'm going to clean up this little paint mess of mine before the cats manage to spread it far and wide in the apartment. And then I'm taking my ass OUT of this apartment, because it is too nice of a day to waste cleaning, no matter how desperately the place needs it. And it does need it... desperately. But the Prince is working today (poor baby!) and there is no way I could make a meaningful dent in this mess all by myself anyway. (Rationalization is a wonderful salve for the conscience. I highly recommend.)

I think I will take myself to the bookstore for a bit and then maybe check out the gallery of the local art league that I just the other day discovered. Maybe I'll even clean out and wash my car while I'm at it. That always makes me feel productive.

I wish I could afford to have it detailed like we did last summer. The only reason we splurged then was because the Prince's parents were coming to visit and we didn't have time to get both the car and the apartment into company shape before they arrived. My car gleamed when we got it back, and it even SMELLED nice for a change. Which it most decidedly does not, right at the moment. Something noxious has leaked into the carpet and it needs a shampoo. Which it will not likely be getting today, unfortunately. But still, having it washed and cleaned out will be nice. I can always drive with the window down now that the weather is getting nicer.

Ok, that's enough of the day wasted being boring online. I'm off to go do some stuff out in the big wide world.

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Previous - Next
Last Five
Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27

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