My back has gone, well, kittywampus on me. I’ve got an old lower-back injury that dates back nearly twenty years, to the time I got stuck in O’Hare Airport overnight with Grey Kitty and no money for a hotel room.
Technically, the pain in my back is actually located in my backside, which means, as the Bear pointed out, I actually have a pain in the butt. I said that’s better than being a pain in the butt. He wisely refrained from further comment.
So I’m stewing in muscle relaxants and opioids, all legally obtained. (Yes, I’m talking to you, DEA, if you’re listening in.) The furniture is still in one place, maybe because some of it is bolted to the walls. But I’m not really capable of stringing together a coherent thought.
I’d make a terrible junkie; the buzz is fun for a few hours, but then I want my brain back. More substantive posting will resume once the drugs have worn off.