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Well, it's 10:20 p.m. at this writing and I 'm chugging down a nutritious chocolate shake. I have a little more time before the dreaded eating cutoff at midnight. Then, Steve will need to padlock the fridge because there's no food until after surgery tomorrow afternoon and I'll be pining for snacks much like our youngest cat Leo does at 4:30 a.m. The little orange baby monster has us trained, as we often sit on the floor while Leo lounges on the couch in pre-nap-bath-mode, licking his full stomach. Soon Leo will have suspicious cat breath, so I take a mental note not to give him kisses until I see him drink a full bowl of water.  The surgeon is in the hard-core-no-food-after-midnight camp. It'll be an interesting day because of low blood sugar. If I'm Captain Crabby Pants tomorrow, it's the surgeon's fault. I'll try to stay kind, but the jury's out. Hanger's a tough beast to wrangle sometimes. I do admire my surgeon's caution because asph

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