It's now been three months.
In case you've been keeping track of these things, in the 25 months that I've lived here, I've had a working TV/Cable/DVD system for 5 of those months.
Yes, that's a whole lotta time to figure out how to spend an evening at home NOT in front of a television.
I've been listening to TED Talks and coloring.
Which, admittedly, has been kinda OK.
I had a 'thing' this morning.
Involving a tiny camera.
And some internal organs.
It might contain Too Much Information.
Feel free to skip to the Three Things I'm Thankful For section, if you just don't want to know.
To prepare for that 'thing', I was to fast for 24 hours (I fasted for 32, because I wanted an 'A' in fasting.), drink 5 litres of water, and chug this:
(Which liquidizes everything in your system.
Your system? Is not a fan of this product. It will react. Violently.)
I did this fasting, and drinking, and erhhhm, at the lake on Sunday.
(Yes. Another lovely summer weekend, somewhat sabotaged by something medical and NOT FUN.)
I didn't realize Clint was going to be there.
With his business partners,
preparing for a Monday morning shoot in Chilliwack.
So many black blinking things being charged.
So many cases of lens and equipment.
So many people in the cabin when I thought it'd be empty.
So much discomfort.
The hour-long drive home took 60 minutes, as per usual. Only this time, I was very aware of each minute.
ANYWAY, I had very clean innards for this morning's appointment.
If they had been inclined to hand out gold stars for excellence in crapping - I would've received two.
Have you had one of these ehrrmm, procedures done?
It's fascinating. If you're into this sort of thing.
Am decidedly not.
The specialist was not impressed with my attitude.
(You're still reading? You can opt out now, if you want. Just skip this next part.)
I'm on my side, head on a pillow, eyes closed, breathing deeply and having a very concentrated conversation with God.
The specialist is encouraging me to look at the big flatscreen/monitor, conveniently located for my (and his) viewing pleasure directly in front of me.
"Are you OK?" he asks.
"Uh huh," I grunt.
"Are you watching?"
"What's the matter with you?"
"Look at the screen."
I open my eyes.
There I am. Larger than life. I look pink and moist inside.
I shut them again.
I look up.
"This tiny black spec? That's the culprit. Lesssee if I can find more."
I close my eyes and try not to freak out.
The are filling me up with air and it is wildly uncomfortable, Not painful. Just not a great sensation.
"Hello? Are you OK or what?" he asks again, sounding a little agitated with me.
"Uh huh. Fine."
"Why are you not watching?"
"You've seen one inch of bowel you've seen it all..."
"Look again, please."
I open my eyes. Bowels on The Big Screen. I don't think it'll ever be a blockbuster.
Saw another few inches of my insides.
I can check that off my bucket list. Oh wait. That would have never made ANY LIST, ever, of mine.
Eventually, (after 2 - 3
WHICH WAS MUSIC TO A PERSON'S EARS.
I was so euphoric, I went straight to the lab and had them draw blood. And I did not faint.
But I did go home and have a nap. Because, trauma.
I was at work by noon, though, just in time to introduce the new designers to our project management file sharing system.
I am submitting a formal request, in triplicate, that summer be extended by two months.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Smart people.
2. New technology
3. The internet
4. Creative people
5. Colouring books.
6. Crayola Felt Pens
7. New babies