Bastard's Notebook

Ok, I'm back. Been back for a few hours now, including unloading and taking the kid to the park for a couple of hours?

How was it? Well, let's see- only a few hours of sleep from sleeping in unfamiliar quarters, eyeball twitching from exhaustion, hungover, sore....


....and I'm still fucking glowing. The Ball kicked ass, And well, it was downright great and justifying to see that the new designs and all the damn work of the last few months went over so well. Booyah.

And the kidlet now wants me to chase her. OFF I GO!

State of the Winnegan:

Doctor's aren't sure exactly what's up with my arm- it could just be a strain on some tendons, it could be nerve damage, or best of all it could be a hairline fracture. Only time will tell at this point. In the meantime, I have my arm in a compression wrap to keep any swelling down (not that there's been any, but at least it helps keep me from moving the arm in ways that are painful), and a bottle of perscription strength naproxen, which it turns out, I can't take. Whether it's an effect from combining with my usual perscription cocktail or an effect of my wonderfully fucked up metabolism, big doses of naproxen evidently induce firehose-pressure regurgitation.

So how am I? I'm hurting, but I'm recovering. And just plain feeling exhausted from the pain, since it's overriding the normal painkillers. Thankfully, plaidbrat and Brenna have both been pretty forgiving over my grumpiness from the last few days.


Agenda for this weekend: writing. I've got three pieces currently stuck in my head that I need to get onto the page. I just need to get away from all the damn distractions to get to them.

Depression, exhaustion, and deadlines aren't enough it appears. Instead, I must now also deal with excruciating pain.

Was taking some recycling down to the dumpster when my foot slipped off the steps (Capezio? That no-slippage statement about your dancesneakers line? You may want to revise it.) and hit the step below rather badly. It's never a good thing when you suddenly realize "hey, the inside of my foot is nearly touching the inside of my leg!"

Hence, I am now the gimp. Brenna at least seems to realize something's not all well with me at least, and she hasn't been pulling me around the room like normal. But otherwise, mobility limited for me for the weekend.