Goodbye, October. I will not miss you.

Not with your two herniated discs in my husband's back. Not with your intense sciatic nerve pain. And as nice as his entire month of work off was, honestly, a tropical vacation would have been better for that. Constant physical therapy appointments, doctor appointments, x-rays, MRIs, and steroid epidurals really are not as nice as days on a beach.

And frankly, if you were going to burn up his entire paid time off pool, you could at least have sent us on an exotic vacation instead of to various hospitals and medical facilities. We won't even mention the stress, distress, and unrest. Or the fact that you didn't bother to take the pain with you when you left.

As for an entire month without the energy or emotional wherewithal to write, critique, or do more than take care of an injured spouse, well, we won't talk about that, either.

Since he has to go back to work so that we can pay bills, and since I'll lose my freaking mind if I don't start writing again, I've got some high hopes for November. But just so that we're clear: November (and hell, December, for that matter), if you even think about bringing the words "back surgery", I'm going after your mothers. Just sayin'.