I didn't do it, Laura. I swear. I wouldn't have sent this ick to people I don't like, never mind people I love.
All right. I'm going to complain now. I don't need hairpats, or hugs, or even sympathy. I need to vent and get it off my chest, and move forward. This is angry venting, not poor poor pitiful me venting.
The other day, y'all knew how my back was behaving badly, right? The next day, my right thigh muscle felt like a rock. It was painfully sore, as if I'd undertaken a strenous exercise program the day before. But I hadn't. It hurt to do everything, but I didn't mention it here, because I know I'm sick of listening to me, so y'all must be, too.
I believe I hurt it in an effort not to hurt my back more, and that's okay. The day after, it was a little sore, but better. TODAY, I hurt (re-hurt) my neck. I either slept wrong on my magical pillow (although it felt okay when I first woke up), or turned my head wrong (when I finally decided to get up, because my lower back was hurting), or something.
Now my shoulder hurts too. I am wearing my collar and am going to have to get off the computer because typing seems to be exacerbating it. This would be okay, because I have plenty to do, and am I'm used to the neck thing, and it will get better eventually... BUT I haven't had a non assachey day in over a month, now, so I'm getting that nibbled to death by ducks feeling. AND ALSO?
I came up with the best idea for a story, this morning. Better than I've had in two years, and easier to write than the one I came up with two years ago. And now I can't write it because of all the duck nibbles.
If it wouldn't require a trip to a butcher, I'd make roast duck tonight, just for the metaphorical revenge.
I'm sorry, Cindy. Pain just wears you down.
My mother is much better today. She's off the catheter. They're going to let her eat something. More importantly, they're going to let her have coffee.
I'd make roast duck tonight, just for the metaphorical revenge.
See, people think revenge tastes sweet, but apparently it tastes like duck.
Looks like an all around craptastic Monday morning in Buffistaland today. Might be a good day to crawl into the bunker and shut the door.
ugh, Cindy. I know very well that feeling of JUST FREAKING WORK STUPID BODY AND STOP HURTING.
I wish I could bring you a duck. Also, where is your butcher? (because I don't have one except for the dudes at Whole Foods)
Oh, Cindy. That totally sucks. You so need a break!
You know what I'm in love with? The little individual veggie trays by Green Giant. They are just my favorite things ever. Right now. I can make one individual serving just for me. It's so perfect. Why did no one thing of this earlier?
Also, individual bags of microwave popcorn.
Finally. Someone is thinking of the singles.
Ginger, that's so good to read. I'm so happy for her and for you. Did the intestinal blockage resolve itself?
Looks like an all around craptastic Monday morning in Buffistaland today. Might be a good day to crawl into the bunker and shut the door.
I totally would, but I cringe to think what muscle I'd pull doing that.
I wish I could bring you a duck. Also, where is your butcher? (because I don't have one except for the dudes at Whole Foods)
I don't actually have one, or that duck's goose would be cooked. Um. There is (or at least used to be) a really good one in Everett, on Broadway (Rte. 99) -- McKinnon's.
Might be a good day to crawl into the bunker and shut the door.
But it's nice and warm out today and that makes my groggy brain happy. For once, I require no bunker!
(man it makes such a difference to not be cold All. The. Time.)
Also warmed by total neicephew OMG Cutitude.
(ETA quote context)
Yay, Ginger! Sending continued health~ma her way, just to be safe.
{{{Cindy}}} I know you didn't send the ick (even though Laura's post cracked me up), and I'm sorry about the muscles aches and the ducks.
This, though?
If it wouldn't require a trip to a butcher, I'd make roast duck tonight, just for the metaphorical revenge.
Made me laugh and laugh.
Also? You need to at least make a note of your story idea, just the seeds, so you can write it when the ducks have been slaughtered backed off.
she'll never have that recipe again....
Oh nooooooooooooooooooooooo!
