If you are also on drugs, this won't seem random to you.

Sometimes weird things teach you weird things about yourself. And your priorities.

For example, I found out on Monday that I was having surgery on Tuesday (the minutia of why this was a surprise is totally unimportant). I was very, very nervous, but not for the reasons you’d think.

Not because of the idea of anesthesia, or the thought of someone cutting into my back and playing around with my spine, or even because of my pathological (and well founded) fear of my butt showing during surgery.

No, I was nervous because I had so much to DO.

Early Tuesday morning, I sprang into action.

The first thing I did was get a pedicure.

The second thing I did was plan out meals for the week and go to the grocery store.

The third thing I did was make meals for the week.

The next things I did happened in this order: I changed all the sheets, I did all the laundry, I paid all the bills, I watered all the plants.

I swept the floor.

I hobble walked the dog around the block.

I arranged for someone to take the puppy on an extended playdate. I arranged for someone to take the kids on extended playdates.

I changed two light bulbs that had been bothering me.

I took a long shower and dried my hair and looked as cute as I could without an ounce of makeup.

Then, and only then, did I tell my husband I was ready to go to the hospital.

So I learned I am neurotic and anal to an almost diagnosable degree.

Then, as my husband met my doctor and heard us joke around

(me: You’ve already done two surgeries today. How did they go? Dr. F: They didn’t make it. I’m hoping the third time is the charm. Let me get a shovel and then I’ll be ready for you.),

he looked at me, incredulously, and said, “You just like this guy because he makes you laugh, right?”

So I learned I rank humor as the most important trait in friends, children, store checkout clerks and surgeons.

As I have sat in bed for three days letting my husband wait on me, I have learned being lazy is completely overrated and it actually sucks.

I have learned that if you give me enough Vicodin, and a laptop, and a hefty dose of boredom, I will post a blog entry that doesn’t make much sense just so I feel like I’m talking to someone.

Now I’m going to go make some progress on season 4 of Breaking Bad.

Who says I can’t rock a Friday night?