Am I dead? Is this heaven?

No and no.

I did get to have surgery, though - and do you know how sick you get before they decide that cutting you open and taking parts of you out is the best possible solution? PRETTY DARN SICK - and my youngest brother very helpfully suggested that they also take out all the other parts that I'm no longer using or can do without out to save me any future surgeries, but I chose to ignore his AMAZINGLY BRILLIANT advice and keep my ovaries, appendix and tonsils for future good times.

I'm pretty much better now AND I have some gross new scars! Win!

So I've decided that the best way to judge the quality of one's mate is to go through a long painful illness around them and if I didn't think my husband was a fine, fine fellow BEFORE now, I certainly would at this point. He has spent months and months buying groceries and making meals and caring for our monstrous children and keeping stuff WAY cleaner than it usually is and doing all the rest of the stuff he already does WITHOUT COMPLAINING ONCE. NOT ONCE. I married a freaking PRINCE, I tell you. A prince who should probably not decide to test my mettle in the same sort of way, frankly. He gets old/sickly/gross looking? I AM OUTTA HERE.

All right. So here's your assignment: tell me what I should write about in my next post because I am BORED of talking about this dumb illness. Ready? GO.