5:30 a.m. Our kitchen.

Wife Cat due at hospital this morning for operation at 7 o'clock. (Thanks for loving notes yesterday!!) Me, up. Check. Dressed. Check. Wearing lucky shoes. Check. Not feeling sacrilegious due to declaring the possession of lucky shoes. Check. Lined up and ready to go: laptop, Sedaris book, wallet, watch, glasses, camera, phone, DVD's, headphones: check, check, check, allrightalready.

Breakfast of scrambled eggs with bell peppers and onions in stomach: check, even though bizarre cuz Cat can't eat. (She's upstairs showering with some weird Sani-Soap she had to lather up with and then stand there for five minutes before she can rinse off, a process for which she's turned on the heat in our place, temporarily turning me here in the kitchen into Sweatsy the Wonder Boy.)

Peppercorns sprayed all over kitchen and dining room because I brought this pepper-grinder combo thing at Trader Joe's and then tore it open like a maniac about two minutes ago because I wanted pepper on my eggs  and now I'm sitting in the middle of all these pepper balls feeling like a cobb salad gone berserk.

Identification with lettuce-based entrée. Check.

Okay, don't panic! We're leaving in a half hour! I have to go! I don't know if I'll be able to connect with the outside world once we're there! If I can, I will! If not I won't! Life's like that! Whaddaya gonna do! We're out of control! Everything's up to God! We all die anyway! But let's not think about that right now! LOVE TO YOU ALL!

Insanely yours,

John

From yesterday: Top 10 Things I'll Worry About While My Wife is In Surgery Tomorrow.

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