magnetic stuff

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Lots of post-operative pain during the night -- enough so that I will call the doc today and ask him to crank up the meds that really didn't quite do the job.

Interesting how pain -- physical, mental, no difference -- has a way of blowing apart cozy and convenient assumptions. It's like wearing a white shirt to an Italian restaurant: You may think you're well-dressed and have things all together, but spaghetti sauce has a mind of its own: Spaghetti sauce is in love with white shirts in the same way that tornadoes seem to be in love with Oklahoma trailer parks.

But I am so fuzzy today that maybe it's not worth speculating about.
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