So I just (hesitantly) opened my bill from the hospital for my emergency room visit. About a week ago I tripped over my couch and smashed my face into an end table, resulting in a bump on the noggin, an ugly-looking cut, and two black eyes. Yes, there was alcohol involved and, yes I really did trip and fall, but feel free to insert some domestic violence joke here. God know's everyone else has. I have been dreading getting this bill, but was convinced by the boy to open it.
....$28.40. Not a typo. Twenty eight dollars and forty cents.
I keep thinking that that can't be right, but there it is. I suppose that might make sense, since all the hospital did was ask me how I was feeling, give me a not-really-needed tetanus shot and some neosporin, and send me on my way. Either way, I'm incredibly grateful that it wasn't the $200-300 I expected it to be, and feeling pretty damn lucky all around.
I've been knitting like crazy the last few days, with two Christmas presents done, a couple more half-finished, and some more still to come. I've been itching to take pictures of the stuff I'm finishing, but they will all have to wait to be posted until after Christmas when they've been opened by the recipients. So instead I'll just put them all into one big gluttonous "look what I've done with the last six weeks!" post.
I made a list today-- well, actually I made three: the who's-getting-what list, the Christmas card list, and the to do/make/buy list. All of them still look pretty long, but somehow I'll get it all done. Up next is cleaning our apartment and reorganizing our furniture in anticipation of getting our Christmas tree tomorrow.
...and thus begins my attempt at Holidailies. Maybe by commiting to writing everyday I'll become a better writer, but somehow I kind of doubt it.