Bucketing snow, raining pain

And Stephen Harper is my country’s Prime Minister.  I suppose it could be worse; Mugabe or somesuch.

I am experiencing almost the same amount of pain and hobbling as I did when I first sproinged my L5S1.  Truly, it’s remarkable.  I’m off to the clinic later to see if I can get some painkillers; sleep last night was a chimerical thing.  They specifically tell you NOT to point your toes when you have this kind of muscle meshugas, but the only way I could sleep was on my stomach with my toes pointed.  I’ve called in sick and I am supposed to have a scheduled vacation day tomorrow but there’s some really weird stuff happening at work that I think I’d prefer to be there to see, and it’s Mr. Clean’s last day before a month of leave, so we prob’ly have to do the download thing.

Onelegwest is staying on until February, Hurrah.   So the Lunch Bunch Mark IV will not be sundered as soon as I feared.

I’m 17 days off cigarettes.  I’ve had two bouts of cravings, both easily managed.

Kira is watching it snow with a look of utmost distaste and a very subdued twitching of her tail. Vis is down to about an eighth of a mile.

Winter blahs

After the creative surge of November comes the dreaded deeps of midwinter, made somewhat better by there being more reflected light with all this snow.  But I have the blahs right down to my toes.  To quote a song I wrote a long time ago, “I feel like I’m swimming in glue”.

 

There’s only one thing to do: