I love my mother. I mean… i really hate her sometimes, and i get really frustrated by the fact that we’re both still in Philadelphia so it’s easy for her to sink her claws into my life at a moment’s notice, but there are times when those claws come in pretty handy.

Case and point: right now i’m actually reading my email. Now, for all of you net-junkies this might not seem like such a big deal, but i’m currently tethered up to an IV pole on the sixth floor of Graduate Hospital, and apparently they haven’t implemented a “net access for patients” policy at this point. Of course, being totally addicted to the internet, i was markedly more upset by my inability to blog than the fact that i wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything for 48 hours, and i made it known to anyone who would listen.

My mother happens to work downstairs in the ER, and after a particularly long kvetch that involved me telling her i was going to unhook my saline drip and jog to the internet cafe on Walnut street she disappeared for five minutes only to return with the head doctor of the ER in tow.

With his Macintosh G3 powerbook, and internet connection.

So, here i am, trailing tiny translucent tubes that are supplying me with saline, potassium, Solu-Madrol, and Matronidazol and barely allowed to drink 8oz of white grape juice every hour. And happy.

I love my mom.