Hangin' on the Rock

So. I'm on vacation. We flew out to Newfoundland, yup, home of all the Newfie jokes, last Sunday. And I've spent pretty much the past week sitting in the basement of Mr. Pink's Cousins' house. And sleeping. And eating.

Now, the sleep, I desperately needed and I'm pretty darn glad I'm catching up on it.

The food boggles my mind. These people don't eat vegetables and it's a stretch to see more than a piece or two of fruit. Meat. Potatoes. Plenty of that goin' around. Desserts. Yup, those too. A nice salad with crisp greens, crunchy tomatoes and maybe a cucumber or two? Not a chance. Now, I admit, I don't eat that well. But I'm going through withdrawal. I've stopped craving chocolate (HORRORS!!) and I'm craving celery. Celery!! WTF?

As for the basement? Well, Mr. Pink has had a serious attack. The TN. Again. It's been going strong since a few days before we left and it doesn't look like it's going anywhere. We spent Tuesday in the hospital, where a very stupid doctor sent him home, despite the fact that he was literally screaming in pain, because he decided that the medication that two of the top neurosurgeons IN THE WORLD took Mr. Pink off of because it made him so dizzy he kept falling over shouldn't have done that, so that's all he needed... more medication. Bastard.

So I've been waffling between not wanting a crappy vacation, and feeling guilty as all heck because I don't want to have fun while he's in bed in pain. So far, haven't seen or done much, but since we leave on Wednesday, I think I'm gonna have to get over my guilt and get out there. Cuz I know I'll regret it if I don't.