This is getting ridiculous. Aimee's horrific bank card fraud, Ginger's vicious bed frame, Cass' poor back, GC's poor Gram, Fay's car...I'd go on, but it might give the Powers That Be more ideas.

t brandishes flaming sword

Be. Nice. To. My. Bitches. I don't know how to use this thing, and I'm liable to set something on fire.

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Ginger vs. Gravity.

Oh dear, I hope you can conquer gravity in the end. And I hope you aren't too sore from the battle in the morning. I'm debating voting gravity off of the island but I don't know if that would be for the best.

but -- you're in pain, honey. Do it.

We're not even close to Elvisifying right now. Just edging towards the tolerable realm of shocking pain. Though I suppose Elvis might have started with a beer in the bath at some point. I should jot down some lyrics maybe.

Not flexoril either, though there shall be a phoned in request for it tomorrow if I can't get the insurance cleared up enough to actually see the doctor. Especially as I can't get through work tomorrow with a beer and a bath waiting for me at half hour intervals.

Tonight I have methocarbamol which has never impressed me in the least. It's part of a combo kit for the stress headaches.

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Okay, I'm going to acquiesce to the time zone and try to go to sleep. So Cass, I hope you get some pain relief, honey. My back is sending back~ma westwards.

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Cereal:

Tonight I have methocarbamol which has never impressed me in the least.

Eh. Methocarbamol -- if you take 2 -- with a beer -- is good for weekend-warrior type muscle aches. Honestly, I don't think it does shit for pain that's worse than a 2 or 3 (on a scale of 0 to 10, where 0 is, well, zero, and 10 is Just Fucking Kill Me Now). When my back was injured, pre-surgery, methocarbamol did nothing for it. It's decent for cramps, I suppose. But I've often suspected it of being a placebo.

Flexoril, on the other hand, is Teh Shit. It fucking rules.

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Be. Nice. To. My. Bitches. I don't know how to use this thing, and I'm liable to set something on fire.

Hee. I vote for Jack Bauer to talk Kristin down. National security is at stake!

Meanwhile, and this doesn't mitigate any of the other crap a-going on right now, but the Universe seems to have decided I get to be on top of the ferris wheel for a bit. It's even a lovely clear day outside. On a clear day you can see forever, you know. Or AS' office building, anyway.

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But I've often suspected it of being a placebo.

Oh good. I can banish all thoughts of "Ooooh, It's Sooooo Bad" then for the night.

We were at about a 7 earlier on the OmiGodPain Scale at times but consistently only a 5-5.5.

And now about a 3, where 3 is kicked in the gut cramps and backache where you get dizzy when you stand and want to hurl from the pain but you can technically take it and you know that actually digging your stomach out with a spoon would hurt more.

I don't want it to get worse because last time I hurt worse (IBS) I went to the ER and was given Demerol which was teh ugh. It knocked out the pain but brought on the paranoid.

There should be a note on my chart, Demoral (I am trying out different spellings, choose the one that isn't wrong) bad, try something else. I mean, it's not a deadly allergy note but it really sucked in my brain for a while there.

Back has gone back to the fizzy tingley thing. It doesn't so much hurt when it does this as freak me the hell out.

Flexoril, on the other hand, is Teh Shit. It fucking rules.

I am resolved -- if I don't get to actually have a doctor look at this tomorrow and, as righteous as my indignation is, I don't think there is any chance of getting that far with the benefits fiasco -- I am calling and getting a script for Flexoril tomorrow. I'll just pay the out of pocket and deal with it later.

Thanks Tep! Sleep well.

I vote for Jack Bauer to talk

to MEEEEEEEEEE... For long, long hours. Mmm, I like his voice.

Meanwhile, and this doesn't mitigate any of the other crap a-going on right now, but the Universe seems to have decided I get to be on top of the ferris wheel for a bit.

Oh you totally deserve it. Honest and truly. The view sounds lovely.

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Oh, gosh, Ginger.... Thurber. Thurber could be my happy thoughts if only I could find some fairy dust, and then I'd fly away to, well, to Columbus. This is Thurber we're talking about.

Skipping along like Mary without a clue about where the lamb is... so Punctuation and ~ma for those who want.

JZ:

The peaceful catful nesting-in of Andi and Dan is a close second, though.

You just had to say it, didn't you. I locked myself out of the house this afternoon because I was in such a rush to get to the pet store to buy Nature's Miracle and get back to clean up the mess A-frickin-SAP so that it would be mostly cleaned up before Daniel got home. Not that he would be likely to freak as badly as I did, but I do have that irrational fear that if the cats make tooooooo much trouble, he'll toss us all out on the street. Like I said, irrational.

The problem was this: (white-font for unpleasant cat habits) I observed Sammie standing on a 24-pack of Fresca cans, scratching it like she was burying her traces in a litter box. Upon investigation I discovered a large, cold, old puddle of pee under the accumulated junk in that dark, neglected corner. It's a spot that is damp enough to grow mildew if not monitored closely, and that kind of dankness sometimes produces a scent close enough to cat pee that an otherwise careful cat may be confused and believe it is an appropriate place to go. Between the scent-cues and the clutter that accumulated there, it is understandable that the Sammie would think that was an ok place to pee. It's my fault rather than hers, really. Especially since I know they don't really like the brand of litter I've gotten lately. Still, while cleaning up I had a hard time not wondering why Sammie hates me so much. Again with the irrational, I know.

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There should be a note on my chart, Demoral (I am trying out different spellings, choose the one that isn't wrong) bad, try something else. I mean, it's not a deadly allergy note but it really sucked in my brain for a while there.

I am so with you on this, Cass. I get the same reaction along with vicious tummy-ick. Hoping you feel better, honey.

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I get the same reaction along with vicious tummy-ick.

I got a few seconds of, "Shiiiiiiiiiny..." followed by a whole lot of, "Well it doesn't hurt so I'm just going to try and find a corner to twitch in." It wasn't something I ever want to try again.

The fizzy is giving way to spasmatic so it's another 10 minutes in the tub for me and then hopefully bed.

Are you feeling better tonight, K?

I had a hard time not wondering why Sammie hates me so much.

Ick on the kitty mess, Andi. (Calling you just "Wind" sounds odd to me sometimes and I don't feel like typing out the whole sparrow-ness of it. But obviously I will type out a parenthetical longer than the sentence it refers to because I am lazy, but pendant.) I've cleaned up many a cat mess but I always wonder the same thing. I take it very personally. And sometimes I think they mean it personally but sometimes not.

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Cass, yes, feeling better. Needing sleep, though. nighty night...

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