I have been off work a number of weeks. This has left me acutely aware of projects around the house that require attention. These bits of household maintenance randomly scream at me. Fix me! Paint me! Winterize me! A few I've been able to tackle and finish, others are simply impossible to accomplish with my cranky, tendinitis-plagued hands. So I have focused my attention in another direction. Maintaining me! Last week I had a date with my dental hygenist. I left with my teeth all x-rayed, examined, glittery and clean. No cavities! Today I visited my gynecologist and experienced that most joyfully anticipated ritual, the quasi-annual PAP test! And all the assorted poking and prodding that accompanies it. I'm hoping for that short but sweet letter in the mail saying I'm just fine and dandy, see you in two years. Have I saved the best for last? You will have to be the judge of that. Tomorrow I return to the clinic for, yes, a mammogram! That most pleasant of diagnostic exams involving an evil machine designed to compress and torture human mammary tissue. I have never enjoyed a mammogram. I have never heard another woman admit that she does, either. For me, it's just a matter of standing still, holding my breath, and it's over with in pretty short order. And when you compare it with having your teeth cleaned, all I have to say is, I'm glad I don't have 28 boobs.