I pretty much informed my husband last night that he'd better get ready for me to turn into Jessica Fletcher when I turn, oh, about 60. I'm not sure how it's going to happen; however, I have faith that I will blossom into my old-lady craziness, like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly. Some magical day.

I realize that this may not be the coolest thing to tell my convalescent husband, but I felt like I needed to be honest.

I also feel like I need to get back to being ridiculous again at some point, because all of this serious is cramping my style. He's tired of me, I'm tired of me. It has not been all that fun in my house. I did reach a couple of milestones yesterday and today, though, that I'm pretty proud of: Yesterday, I didn't cry. All day. Not once. First day I can say that about since the 14th, so I think that's pretty good. Today's milestone? I was able to eat an entire bowl of cereal and I didn't feel pukey, not even once.

That one's good, because my stomach has been on the spin cycle for the past 12 days. Probably not the best news for my fun "let's worry about every little thing" diet, but I'll get over it.

Maybe I'm becoming less neurotic today. We'll see.

So my goal for today is to not cry (again), to be able to eat lunch without feeling like it's going to come right back out, and to regain my sense of humor. It's still in there. I can feel it. I just had to put it away for a while.

Usually, if I make it a goal, I do it. I'm pretty sure that's what Jessica Fletcher does, too. I am going to be so much like her, it's not even funny. I think I'm going to start now, minus the whole "solving murders" part, because I don't think I could deal with dead bodies all cool and calm-like.

I think I would barf. Right there, on the body.