Nothing Left

I think I wrote an insightful email response just minutes ago (it actually may be a rambling mess 'cause I'm tuckered) that sucked out all my creative genius.  All that I can muster is, it's surgery Friday at 9:30 AM.  Wish me luck!

Wish Pkin luck.  He hates to be around strangers, and that's all you find in a hospital.  And he tends to think in racial epithets when he's stressed.  It's rather funny because he's so much more open than I am to different and he's pink white and I'm olive brown. 

OK, really, the tank is empty.