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Well, the conclusive results from today’s roto-rooter adventure are many: Mr. Crankypants was not ony cranky, but very funny in recovery. By funny, I mean his behavior–I won’t comment further because among all the things he said that I could have reported, was his pharmaceutically induced paranoia that he would be fodder for mockery here, and so in a gracious move on my part, I will surrender the opportunity for comic relief. More importantly, the glorious words of “no cancer” were uttered by his physician who would INDEED be fodder for much mockery here, but I won’t do that either.

Inconclusive stuff remains, i.e., he either has an ulcer or GERD. Whatever, more stuff to come I imagine. At any rate, Mr. Pants is fine.

Things around here a little calm. John going in for one of those roto-rooter procedures so we can figure out if he has an ulcer or something else. I am at home, waiting to take him, so I get a little break–at least from work. He hasn’t eaten since Tuesday night, so Christaar has nicknamed him Mr. Crankypants.

In exciting news, when Mr. Crankypants is done this afternoon, he is going to go eat the biggest meal he can find in Atlanta. I have to take him. I’ve been assuming I’ll get to eat this mastadon meal with him, but you never know. More later….