The tape covering the incision in the barren Land of Thyroid is finally starting to peel off. It is loose on one end, and part of the bottom of the middle section flaps if I turn my head just right. I tugged on it momentarily after my shower this morning, but it gave me a painful pulling sensation, so I ended that little experiment rather abruptly. It should have come off by now, but it's clinging to my neck like a toddler being dropped off at daycare. I wouldn't mind so much, but it's visible for all to stare at during my jaunts about town. And it looks like I put a piece of masking tape on my skin to get attention, like a sixth-grader bends a paperclip and jams it in her mouth to mimic braces.
The #1 son is chasing the elusive Sprint Evo, holding a useless raincheck that is good until June 20th. Good for nothing, I say, because the salesman said that he will call when they get a shipment at the Sprint store, but that #1 must come pick it up right then, as they are not allowed to set any aside. What, then, is the purpose of a rain check, if anybody who walks into the store ahead of #1 can get an Evo until the stock is depleted? I cry shenanigans! We switched our family plan from ATT to Sprint, bought a Hero for me, a Blackberry 8530 for Telephone-Impaired H, and had the intent of getting the Evo for the third line for #1. Meanwhile, his ATT plan runs out on June 14, and to keep his number, we might have to add the line and get a freebie phone and then return it within 30 days to get the Evo when it's in stock. That will cost a $35 restocking fee. The #1 son has figured out all the angles. I hate phone companies, but at least the Sprint personnel are pleasant. Those ATT wenches are the Devil's Handmaidens.
The Pony has been absorbed in the works of Jules Verne on his Kindle. They are free, you know, those Verne classics and not-so-classics. Free for the taking on the Kindle downloads.
I am embarking upon a new project, compiling a Greatest Hits version of my last five years of blogging. I don't know why I am telling you, because I'm not going to post it. It's just for me. I'll put it on a flash drive and hope I still have the technology to read it in my old age. I crack myself up sometimes. Today I was perusing April and May, 2005, on my very first blog, Redneck Review. One of my favorites was about the #1 son getting in trouble in the car, and declaring, "Well, isn't this just one big not-listening party!" I can't think of the name of that post. I had it saved in wordpad, and left the file open, and then while we went to #1's basketball open gym, the power went off, and I lost that file. Seems I hadn't saved it after all.
Such is the life of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom.