I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly.
EWWWWWWWW.
This blog is a break from the Nova Scotia journals as I am getting married in count them, nine days, ah, ah, ah.
But…
In order to make our almost married lives more interesting Michael had to have surgery on his eyeball today. They had to remove the jelly part of his eye and then insert a gas bubble in order to heal his torn retina. It will take seven days of him laying on his left side for 55 minutes of every hour to heal. This means that he physically can not help prepare for our mostly DIY wedding. This means I can’t even yell at him when he doesn’t help. Awesome. No pressure.
We’ve been taking turns wallowing in self pity. We spent twelve hours at the eyeball hospital today. The anesthesiologist was a total dick to him and said, “I see you win the idiot of the week award”. Them’s fighting words, so he said, “I wasn’t fucking playing paintball”. Now is where I should go into why Michael had to make this declaration.
At his bachelor party on Saturday night, well sort of on the way to the bachelor party, which sort of was the bachelor party, Spano managed to accidentally shoot Mike’s eye out by shooting a paintball via a slingshot at a car that had a miniscule amount of window open. The paintball made it through the cracked window and directly into the side of Mike’s right eye. It did not burst, luckily, but it did do all sorts of damage to his eye, hence the surgery. So he spent his bachelor party in the ER. Doh. My poor baby. And he’ll spend the week before his wedding getting all gross and stinky and hairy on our couch. So yeah. Awesome.
Oh and I checked the forecast for our day, rain. Awesome.
I guess it’s a good time to mention that I broke a mirror on day four of our motorcycle trip. Stay tuned.
sweet disasters 