by this time tomorrow, i will be writing hump-free. i have idly wondered what will happen, if in the manner of sampson and his hair, all my powers lie in my hump and i am left a mere shell after its removal. will my grasp of language disappear? my need to overshare run dry? what if my boobs get smaller?!
in the meantime, i am occupying myself drinking copious amounts of fluid because the pre-surgery directive of no food or drink after midnight, coupled with the infernal weather, has sent me into a tailspin of new neurosis – in short, that i will be obscenely thirsty for most of the day tomorrow.
in the meaner meantime, i am channeling nervous energy into, of all things, the MLB all-star game and campaigning for my beardsy imaginary boyfriend, kevin youklis, to make the last spot on the american league team. i’ll avoid the hypothetical if-something-goes-wrong-tomorrow pleas that could make this a theoretical last request, but i will ask you, nicely, to vote for him.
catch you on the flip side, kiddos.