So, the vasectomy procedure is complete. I’ve returned home from the chop shop and am now sitting comfortably numb in my rocking chair. As far as I can tell, everything has gone according to plan. I mean, I can’t really feel anything, but I can see that I have all the important stuff still intact.
I have been prescribed about 5 days worth of antibiotics and a little Vicodin for good measure.
And for the next 48 hours, the doctor has very specific instructions.
Well now, this ain’t so bad. I have license to be a complete lazy slob. The wife is being extra nice. The kids are bringing me beers and drawing me pictures. I even have a few friends coming over later to help me watch t.v. Plus, they’re bringing food – including some testicularly themed Deviled Juevos.
I don’t have to cook anything.
I don’t have to fix anything.
I don’t have to put anything away.
I don’t have to wash or clean anything. Not even myself.
I don’t have to let the stupid dogs out.
I don’t have to let the stupid dogs back in 30 seconds later.
I don’t have to watch Dragonball Z.
I don’t have to watch The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.
I don’t have to watch Jessie or Barbie or any other singing and dancing bullcrap.
I just have to sit here, kick my feet up and concentrate on creating a dank, aromatic cloud of sedentary bliss.
Well, at least until the anaesthesia wears off.
Or the wife’s patience.