|Me, looking fabulous yet naive, |
aboard the dirty red whore that
almost killed me two days later.
For the rest of you, an update: I still feel like crap.
It's disheartening to see how slow my progress is, it's maddening to not be able to do a blessed thing, including hobble to the latrine, without howling out loud and turning the air blue with curse words.
On the plus side, I'm becoming a whiz at crutches. My leg may be withering away but my biceps are beefing up nicely.
I'm catching up on my drinking, my reading, my movie-watching, my observing of the comings-and-goings of the neighbours, my meticulous inventory of the areas of the house (visible from a supine position on my couch) that could use cleaning. Thankfully my daughter is coming to visit on Sunday. I'll have the mop and Pine-Sol ready. She loves that.
|And then this bedraggled bag lady broke into |
my house and gave me a crutches demo.
Oh and lastly, I've been getting some! Lots, actually. Best ever, in fact. Why should a shredded hamstring stop me from enjoying that?
Sleep, I'm talking about. What did you think I was talking about?
All right, it's obviously time for some happy pills. They don't do much for the pain but they make me find myself absolutely hilarious. Have a happy Easter, everyone. And if you must drink, don't drive a moped, because you might run over zombie Jesus, freshly risen from the dead. (It's the pills, people. I can't help myself.)