Of bubbles and waffles

"Oh, I wanna eat and eat and eat and eat until I die!"

There's a lady here at my work whom I just adore. I can be in the dumps considerably, and after five minutes with her, life is rosy again. I don't know what it is, other than her bubbly personality and joyful outlook. That or she's in a constant manic state. Either way, for me it's infectious. Don't get me wrong--every manic episode seems to require a fall, and she does have those, as well, at which point we lift her back to her effervescent self. Frankly, I love being a part of it.

On another note (waffles), I'm waffling with a decision, and I hate that. Those are the tough ones. Usually my gut tells me right up front, and I'm pretty sure I know the answer with this one, but when I tell myself that's it, I get a little panicky. Not a fun place to be. Sigh. I had surgery five years ago, and now I've learned that some muscles have separated from my ribs, which will require another surgery to fix it. It's not urgent, but it would be nice to get it done. I'm just not looking forward to another surgery of any kind. So I'm still waffling. Writing it down hasn't helped much. :)