So Peat just came home from his nasal surgery. He's fine, just very groggy from the anasthesia. And his throat hurts, which I warned him about, from the breathing tubes and whatnot. Nose jobs are not fun. I had one six years ago. The difference between mine and Peat's, however, is that his was actually medically necessary. His nasal passages were the size of a paperclip wire, and he had, to quote his doctor, "one heck of a deviated septum." Whereas my surgery was purely cosmetic. It actually caused a deviated septum. But whatever. Nose jobs in general are just yuck. And ow. Mine was very ow.

I don't know if Peat was all that nervous when I went under the knife, as we had only been dating a year. I'm guessing he was, a little, but probably only about what the results would look like. He was probably just worried about me turning into a pig-woman, like on Seinfeld. No more Jew bump, just a pig snout. "Hey, who's the pig Peat's dating?" people would ask. He wouldn't have liked that one bit. But my nose is adorable now, so he married me.

Anyway, I was freaking out. Thank god my step-mother came with me to the hospital. Hospitals suck. They smell like antiseptic, there's people in pain, and there're those ugly pyjamas and robes they make you wear, with your ass hanging out. Feh.

Plus, I was worried about Peat. Nothing specific, just general worrying. I do that. I'm a Jew. But, thankfully, nothing out of the ordinary happened. His doctor was very pleased, everything went right, and he should get the packing removed tomorrow. Hopefully, he'll be able to breathe soon.

And, since this wasn't cosmetic, there's no chance of him having a pig nose. Which is really all that matters. Oh, that and the breathing. Breathing is good. I hear.