The maids get blamed for an awful lot of stuff around here. Is something missing? It was the maids. Something wasn't put back where I like it? Those MAIDS! Broken faucet? The maids (this time it really was the maids, costing me almost $60.00 to fix it- but I was able to do it myself!)

Anyhoo- yesterday was cleaning service day, so BJ took Einstein to puppy day camp and I holed up in the guest bedroom with a sign on the door requesting that they not enter.

They left at about noonish, and I was hungry so decided to make myself something to eat. I was particularly looking forward to a beautifully ripened tomato with some freshly ground sea salt and freshly ground course pepper. I walked over to the kitchen counter where I'd left the tomato and noticed immediately that it was MISSING. What the WHAT? What the heck did they do with my tomato? I looked everywhere for it because those darned maids have been known to put things in weird places. I even looked in the bread box! No tomato to be found. I could only surmise that they helped themselves to my precious tomato.

Break my faucet? We're cool. Re-fold my towels the way I don't like them? Meh, not happy about it- but it only takes me a moment to fix. But STEAL MY LAST TOMATO? This is war!

I eventually got over it and made myself some home-made caramel corn. Good trade, dontcha think?

This is not the end to this story, but I'll get back to it in a minute.

BJ took me to the foot surgeon this morning to have the dressings changed and get a refill on the pain meds (a big shout out to whomever created pain meds, by the way!). The foot is healing nicely, and I'll probably get my stitches out next week. I'm on crutches for a while longer, must keep it dry at all times (sure makes showering fun), and need to keep it elevated and iced as much as possible. The incision was much longer than I'd imagined, so I guess my foot modeling career is going to be on hold.

The surgeon explained that the bone formation was really strange, explaining why he had to chisel so much bone out of my foot and why the surgery was more complex than he thought it would be.

He again assured me that this surgery, without a doubt, is going to take care of the issue and I should have no more pain as soon as things heal.

On the way home from the foot surgeon BJ said, "I owe you a tomato".



He shared with me that he meant to get an apple and wasn't looking closely, so instead packed my precious tomato in his lunch bag.

Is this the part where I share with him that I looked in the oven for my tomato? Nah- I kept that part to myself and simply thanked him for bringing my precious tomato home unharmed.