Ugh.

Dad's surgery over.

He survived. Prognosis not stellar, but he ain't gonna up and drop dead, neither.

I, on the other hand, just may. Been up since 0400 Wednesday. Is now 1217 Thursday. That's thirty-two hours, for those of you who went to public highschool.

Spent the night at my Mom's (they're long-since divorced), who owns a cat (I'm allergic), and I went in with what I was wearing, and what I had stuffed into the pockets of my BHI pants - which outside of my daily loadout included only a blow-out kit to stop an arterial bleeder.

Hey, I don't screw around when someone's just had surgery.

Haven't shaved, had a shower, or changed my damned socks in two days now.

I know I've got a mess of PMs awaiting me in the Nexus, and I'll get around to it.

Later, after I feel half assedly alive again.