Postcards From the Edge

Hello, Internet. Did you miss me? Did you wonder where I ran off to? Did you wish that I had at least sent a note or a change of address? Well, me too. The past three weeks have seen me so doped up on percocet and the sheer exhaustion that comes from constant throbbing pain that I haven’t had the energy to roll off the couch, much less seek out an internet connection.

Have you ever had your wisdom teeth removed? Were all four of them impacted? Afterwards, did you develop an infection in your cheek? That’s right. Your cheek. Did you swell up so violently that your engorged skin impaired your vision simply by pushing itself against your lower eyelid? Did your oral surgeon, who looks mysteriously like John Denver, cut you open and insert drains into your mouth to heal the infection? Well, in an effort to provide you with the widest breadth of information possible, I’ve done all the work for you. I’m having the drains removed tomorrow morning, and hope to be eating solid food by next week.

Meanwhile, I have a brand new Mac in my life. A fancy one. I’m tempted to wrap it in a blanket and sing to it softly each night, but have so far resisted. It has been a welcome distraction from reality, which at this point includes me being in complete denial that I’m moving my entire life across the country in two weeks. I am not lacking in excitement, just a little scared. Packing is something that has not yet occurred in any major sense. I’m considering simply dumping all of my personal possessions into the sea as a final farewell to Provinctown and starting fresh. Suggestions?