Tomorrow's going to be my last day at work before my surgery. Yay! I've taken the Friday off to give the flat a really good clean, as I don't want to come home to it after two weeks at my Mum's and, hampered by my cast, be unable to do anything about my dirty kitchen floor. The weekend will be taken up by me ferrying stuff (clothes, books, mp3 player, phone -- and chargers, mustn't forget chargers!) over to Mum's, and saying teary farewells to my cats who Mum won't let me bring. Poor darlings! They know something's up; they've stuck to me like glue the last couple of days, and seem to get upset when I move out of the room and their direct line of vision. I hear them meow as they go looking for me, and Manasse has gotten into the annoying habit of trying to bar my way to the door each morning, dancing around my legs until he almost trips me up. Whatever time remains will most likely be spent here, as this will be my last chance to get online before I come back.
And although I tell myself it's too early yet to notice any change, I can't shake the impression that my jeans are starting to fit better. I don't feel like my belly is straining against their waistband as much -- but that could be wishful thinking. I still don't see a supermodel looking back at me from the mirror.
Happy birthday, diachrony! I hope your day is fabulous!