Buzz, Buzz, Buzz . . . I Wonder What She Does

Woke up fine yesterday, but then something happened to my back while I was watching the Tour de France time trials and PRESTO CHANGO! I was a real nasty bear with some sort of muscular spasm event happening right over my left kidney for the rest of the day.

Probably all the bad karma I accumulated by making orphan jokes.

(Guess I probably shouldn't implicate my mother by ratting her out for threatening my brother with the gypsies when he misbehaved as a child.)

But I digress.

I tried lying on the floor with my knees bent and a Stephanie Plum novel to distract me. But that didn't help.

I applied gin, orally. No better.

Finally, my sister-in-law stopped by after work and brought me a patch with something in it that I applied to the bad spot.

That worked.

Today I feel as thought I have been punched there. That is, a bit tender. But the knot/spasm is gone. I even went to Pilates.

What remains is a weird buzz. I'm loopy, but at the same time I feel as though I've consumed an entire colada of Cuban coffee by myself.

I was motivated enough to prune part of the hedge that always smacks me in the face when I try to walk into the back yard through the gate. And I pulled lots and lots of weeds.

Before losing total interest.

I'll offer the children some money in exchange for picking up my mess and putting it in a trash can.

Now I really need a shower, but the Very Hot Roof Repair Guy is here, and I don't want to be a cliche. Or a scene out of a very bad adult movie. He's only putting up a bit more of the scaffolding and then I think he'll be gone and it will be safe to take a shower without risk of having to answer the door while wrapped in a towel.

It's bad enough the neighborhood has no doubt labelled me as "That lush who is always walking around with a drink in her hand!"

"In her pajamas."

Okay, VHRG just drove off. The coast is clear.