Sometimes I can be really fickle. Not with friendships or anything like that, but when it comes to hair color I really need an option that says “varies” or “subject to change,” and when it comes to domain names and webhosts I’m almost as bad.

I mean, I like Dreamhost, for the most part, but sometimes I see what other services offer and think about changing, and while I will eventually do something with the 23 (no I am not exaggerating that number) domains I own, sometimes I wish I could just turn them into one of those i4 sites, that are just link portals, and not worry about them any more.

I’ve come close. I’ve temporarily parked a few, but then I decide to revive them, or worse, I buy NEW ONES to replace those I no longer need.

Yes, I know, I’m a sick, sick person.

But I’m never boring.

My muse isn’t speaking to me, and all I want to do is sleep, read, and watch endless episodes of the early seasons of ER, so, in an effort to inject a bit of spirit into the day, I’m sharing a clip from MTV’s airing (last fall) of Legally Blonde: the Musical that I found on YouTube.

It’s quite possibly the pinkest musical ever.

…but it’s completely true that at least a piece of my heart was left in San Francisco. As I told a friend over a lovely sushi lunch today, it’s my favorite city in the world, and if I ever had the opportunity to move back, even if it meant trading my writing life for one of many San Francisco jobs with far less autonomy, I would.

Sadly, however, Fuzzy’s career is the one that dictates where we live, and unless we want to trade our house here in Texas for a condo in Boca Raton, we’re not moving.

Still, I’m two months away from my writing conference, which will mean a whole week in the city by the bay and I’m getting more and more excited, even though it’ll also mean a week of no Fuzzy and no dogs, and funky pillows.

And probably losing another piece of my heart.

My rhythm is completely off with Fuzzy away, and I hate to admit that, because it makes me feel like I don’t have a life without his presence. It’s not true, of course. We have separate interests anyway, and we don’t spend every moment of the weekend together even when he’s home, but the bed is too big at night, and the house is too quiet.

I spent Thursday night, working far later than I usually do, working, writing about such topics as California auto insurance, and staying up later than I should have, but the end result was that I didn’t have to work on Friday.

Here’s my thing about Fridays and work: In the mortgage industry, the loan officers all leave by two on Friday, leaving admins, processors and underwriters to close out the day. Inevitably there would be a crisis at 4:30 PM on Friday afternoon, and we’d end up cleaning up other people’s messes at six or seven, and really resenting having to be there so late. As a result, I like to have my Friday’s clear, so that if something comes up, I can handle it and be DONE. I’m not always able to do so – but I try pretty hard.

Come Saturday morning, I’m in a much better mood than I would have been if I’d been racing to complete tasks the day before.

I’ve been really drugged – “vicozy” to use a term a twitter-bud coined to describe the feeling one has when hopped up on vicodin – and really tired, and I’m still sore despite not having a conclusive diagnosis, but I’m finally feeling a bit better, although the cocktail of pain killers and antibiotics probably has a lot to do with it.

On Tuesday, I saw a g/i specialist who sent me for an ultrasound, just to make sure they hadn’t missed anything with the ct scan, and then was given instructions to set up a colonoscopy, though I have permission to cancel that if I’m feeling better.

Somewhat ironically one of the spam emails I received today was for a colon cleanser, and I have to admit I found that amusing.

In other news, Fuzzy’s in Hong Kong building servers, Zorro’s heart murmur is worse, and I’ve had the worst week ever work-wise for a number of reasons I won’t bother you with.

I baked cookies last night, and they’re great, but I’m now out of vanilla, which is tragic. The cookies have this wonderful caramelly flavor beneath the chocolate (they’re Ghirardelli chocolate chip cookies, with double the vanilla). I’m quite certain they have medicinal qualities.

I’ve made it a policy not to talk politics in my blog. I have strong opinions, but I don’t feel the need to air them here. Nevertheless, the news of Obama securing the democratic nomination for President, months before the convention has even taken place, mind you, has me unsettled.

I have nothing in particular against Obama. I have nothing specific against Clinton. I think either of them would be a damn sight better than McCain, and during the Texas primary I had to really vote with my heart.

But I think all of those people who are Obama supporters and who think Clinton should just “go away,” or should have stopped running, should read

this link from Shakespeare Sister. The writer, another Melissa, has expressed much of what I’ve seen and felt this year.

I shall now return to much cheerier subjects, like the fact that my stomach hurts less today, and the cocktail of antibiotics the size of quarters, vicodin, and anti-nausea pills seems to be working.

Later today, there will be a post about something really amazing. Like swim-cap fashion.
No, really.

In honor of the latest Anita Blake book being released, I offer this link, to today’s comic at Penny-Arcade.com:

http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2008/6/2/.

Because everyone needs a little monster porn in their lives.

So, I’m lying in the ER exam bed. Actually I kept thinking I was going to be told, “you’re fine, go home,” so I was sitting, despite wearing a truly fetching green and white striped cotton gown with navy blue medallions (backless, of course), because I was, in retrospect, kind of shocky, and it didn’t register that I could, you know, lie down.

Oh, btw, yes, there are pictures.
No, you can’t see them.
But let me just say that cotton gown was even sexier than most bodystockings.
No, really.

Anyway, Dr. Holder (petite, female, cheery) came in, said, “We’re giving you two bags of fluids, and then we’ll do the CT scan, and meanwhile our radiology guy will be bringing you some really tasty lemonade and contrast solution to guzzle.”

Larry, my assigned RN – dark complected, pony tail, khaki scrubs, mild voice – did the IV honors, apologizing for hurting me – we had to use a tiny vein in my hand, and you DO NOT WANT to know how painful that was. My hand is STILL hurting.

The lab tech came and drew blood from a different vein, but with all the different needle sticks, I am pretty much mummified by adhesive bandages at this point.

Tom the CT guy brought me about a tanker full of the lemon contrast stuff. I hadn’t eaten at all, was thirsty despite the IV fluid drip, and would have killed for food or drink, so I can honestly say I didn’t mind the flavor, and the icy liquid was, at that moment, the best thing I ever tasted.

Spent two hours watching whatever was on TNT because it didn’t occur to me to ask for a remote. Was cold, so Larry toasted a blanket for me. Finally reclined in the bed, and texted Deb and Ben all morning (thanks guys) since Fuzzy was across town with Zorro getting his blood work and medicine refills.

Pain was constant but bearable til after the scan, but moving back and forth aggravated it, so I finally caved and accepted Larry’s gentle offer of pain relief just before they released me. (Vicodin on an empty stomach made me so stoned – it hit half an hour later in the drugstore, and I was completely loopy by the time we got home). They said, “we think it’s a virus, so push fluids, rest, and see your regular doc on Monday, but it’s not kidney, pregnancy or appendix, and here, have some anti-nausea drugs, and a bunch more vicodin.”

We got home around three.
I ate something warm and tasty, and took the anti-nausea meds, which helped.
I was in bed by 4.
I just woke up a few minutes ago.
I’m going to eat something else small, take more drugs, and crash again.

I still hurt, but the fluids and pain killers are helping, and at least I didn’t have to have surgery.

If you live in the DFW areas, especially in the southern part of the Mid Cities, and you have a medical emergency on a weekend, let me heartily recommend the ER at Mansfield Methodist. I spent the bulk of my Saturday there, and while it is never fun being ill, and I’d have preferred to spend the day comparing weight benches and confirming that the one I bought is still an amazing machine for the money, for a hospital experience it was surprisingly…nice.

First, let me explain: I’ve been feeling draggy and generally craptastic for about a week – severe fatigue, ennui, a low-grade fever that came and went, and queasiness, though no outright vomiting, that came, and…came. Yesterday morning I felt twinges in the lower right of my abdomen, I thought it was just from not moving around for a week.

Last night after dinner, the twinges became sharp pains, then waves of pain that began in the front and wrapped around my side, and no matter what I did, I felt bloated and thirsty. I took some ibuprofen, and tried to sleep, but woke up in tears around five.

My regular doctor doesn’t work weekends, so I grabbed my laptop from the beside the bed and did a web check-in thing for the local urgent care clinic. They open at eight. I was called at 7:344, and I was patient number 1. I was expecting to be told, “Hi you have a kidney infection, have some antibiotics and push fluids.”

Instead, I was told, “Your blood shows an elevated white count, and your urine shows no signs of blood, pus, or anything else that points to any kind of UTI. You should hit the ER and have a CT scan to rule out appendicitis, because while this could be nothing but a gi infection, with that location, you should be sure.”

So we drove to Mansfield. Actually, I think we drove almost to the South Pole, but the signs said Mansfield, the hospital was new and lovely, and at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, I walked into the ER, presented my notes from CareNow, signed in and was see within five minutes. They brought me to an exam room almost immediately, tested more urine, took more blood (which is a different challenge – my veins are DEEP) and stuck an IV in my hand to push fluids – I was, apparently, dangerously dehydrated despite drinking nonstop.

I’ll continue this in the next post, but I blame all the eps of ER I’ve been watching while writing in the last two days (have been on a season one kick) on the fact that a) I’m sick at all and b) I kept expecting a waiting room full of crying babies and desperate adults.