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Run For Forty Miles And Come Up Running Late

Well, it was an interesting morning, to say the least. Up at five, home by eleven. Ian came through with flying colors, altho' he seemed more than a little indignant afterwards. He did not like having the IV plugged into his hand, and he kept reaching for the back of his throat as if he could pull out his pain and toss it across the room.

(Dear future Ian: that's the ugly truth about a tonsillectomy, as you now know. We promise you all the ice cream you want but you won't actually want any. I'm sorry).

Eventually we got some codeine Tylenol in him, and that made the difference. The spent the rest of the day watching tv and eating chocolate ice cream. He's asleep on my side of the bed right now, leaving me nowhere but the recliner. Comfy enough, I guess.

As for the weather, snowfall was minimal, really, but there was an awful lot of ice on the roads. We ended up fifteen minutes late to the hospital because of it, but at least we made it. There's something amusing about watching two pickups being unable to get up an icy hill, and then making it yourself in a Prius. All those years living and driving in the Midwest paid off, I guess.