Bedridden Guide To Heaven

ahh, I think I overdid it yesterday. Either I really was feeling better, or chemicals just hid the pain. In any case, I definitely should not have walked around the block. Although had I not, I never would have known just how much the upper front thigh muscles work to balance the body. They were burning by the time I got back to the house.

SO, again, I’ve got nothing of interest to report about the day outside of how difficult it was to move, and I don’t think I’ll bore you with reliving it again. I had to cancel my sewing session with Becky tonight, unfortunately. I hate to dump leave the rest of the costume responsibility in her lap, but I see no other choice. I simply cannot sit up for any length of time, and I definitely can’t operate a sewing machine’s foot pedal, since every lift of my right leg sends shooting pain through my pelvis. I still have the masks, which I hope to still be able to paint, and I still have the wigs. I worked Regan’s wig into a nice queenly pile today; I think it looks great. Lear’s will also be fun. Cordelia … eh. Prob’ly don’t have to do much with it.

Apparently when my dad gets back trouble, he relies on aspirin and says it works best. So this evening I took Excedrin, and about a half hour later broke into a shaky sweat. I think pain must be an appetite suppressant, because once it diminished I realized just how hungry I was. I guess one egg and a few nuts aren’t enough to nourish a body all day. The sweat was as if I had a fever that broke, which was weird because I didn’t think I had one. But the body does its own thing to recover from injury, I guess. My body is getting sick of being injured, and the simplest biological functions make life agonizingly difficult. Coughing takes careful preparation, I don’t dare even think about sneezing, and today was the first time in my life that I successfully stifled what was sure to be bone-wrenchingly painful vomiting. I felt nauseous the moment I woke up this morning, and while the egg helped, it was eager to see the light of day again when I caught sight of the little pile the dog decided to leave in the sunroom. But just thinking of the pain made me successfully triumph over my reflexes.

Finished another few chapters in Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. I’m enjoying it more than I did the first time I tried to read it (when I was 17), but still not really my cuppa tea. I’m thinking more along the lines of, “I could so write like this!” I wonder what the market is for silly sci-fi these days, and if reader sophistication has increased since 1979. Or will geeks always be geeks?

All We Know Of Heaven (by Rémy Rougeau) is a good read, though. If yesterday hadn’t been Towel Day, I’d be farther through it. Damn my need to experience socially frivolous pop-culture traditions and investigate their origins! (Damn my hatred of feeling left out of anything!)


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