Hello, I must be going...or coming out, I can't remember

Hello, I am back after surgery, and on the mend. Thank you for continuing to drop in while I have been laid up. I can't believe it has been over a month since I last posted. Been busy. End of my semester- hectic- ; preparing the Spring meeting of the GFWC Highland Rim District; gearing up for Spring convention for the GFWC of TN. April is a busy month and this year, it all became a literal pain in the neck. Hence the surgery on my cervical spine that has had laid me up and laid me low.

Being laid up as I have been has given me time to think. It hurt, but I did it. And here are the thoughts that have occur ed to me in between hallucinations, sleep-walking and other interesting drug reactions.

I have decided, at this late stage of my life, to finally out myself. Yes, dear readers, it is true. Like Rupert Evert and Lance Bass, I do it with men. ( Well, one man, anyway.) I am sorry to shock you in this manner, but I figured if Doogie Houser can announce to the world his predilections for men, it is probably safe for me to do the same. I hereby pronounce with pride that I am a raging heterosexual! Always have been. Always will be. I am not in the least interested in having sex with women. Lunch, maybe.

Now, if this is more information than you wanted about my sex life... GOOD! Sex is supposed to be intimate, private, based on affection and attraction, and NO ONE ELSE'S BUSINESS. I don't care if Jodie Foster and Neil Patrick Harris are gay. I don't even know these people. I don't want to know when they take a dump or piss like a race-horse or blow their noses. Biological processes are not topics of polite conversation.

I have no idea why this rant popped into my mind. Maybe the man in the bowler hat who has been at the edge of my peripheral vision since I was put on muscle relaxers has something to do with it. Something about a bowler hat just screams man-lover to me. Maybe he's Alec Guinness. I hope he's not Ian McKellen or he'll chew up all the scenery.

But I digress. This sad, fat old heterosexual has been left in the care of the man she loves. Make that left to the mercy of her man. One thing for sure, should I die from complications of this surgery, I will not be killed by kindness. He means well, but he has no bedside manner, groans and rolls his eyes every time I ask him to do something, and bullies me ceaselessly. Apparently, being a bully is the ultimate expression of loving concern. He is trying. He is very tiring. But he means well. Fortunately, he will be back at work tomorrow.

I am going to close this mess now, and try to get some sleep. I am a bit concerned about the goats grazing on my houseplants but feel confident the man in the bowler hat will round them up before they do too much damage. Of all the things to hallucinate about! Do I get Johnny Depp or Gerard Butler? No, I get British solicitors and living cheese factories

Off to get hopelessly lost en route to my bedroom, Better living through chemistry.