This afternoon I took Fourthborn to her consultation with the oral surgeon. Her hang-y-down tooth will make like Elvis and leave the building in a couple of weeks. We swung through Arby's for sandwiches, and then I dropped her off at home and headed for the after-hours clinic.
I've been droopier than usual, coughing harder and longer than usual: so hard yesterday afternoon that I pulled something in my back and then something in my abdomen as I schlepped down the hallway at the clinic. I am back on Doxycycline for ten days with a steroid shot in my rump. I'm to take my inhaler every four hours for the next couple of days and to seriously watch my carbs and stay out of the sun.
In the words of Simon and Garfunkel, I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
I think "groovy" might be that tiny spark I see on the far horizon.
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