I apologize for my lack of posts this month. My master plan was to post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but this month has been treating me like a baby treats a diaper.
I’ll get this train back on track by July 2nd. Nose to the grindstone, wing-on-wing speed and squeeze the weasel and all.
Various disasters like tornados and burnt toast will crop up in your life from time to time. They can put a great day into the sewer and make a bad day seem like a year in prison with your mother in-law.
This month has been my disaster month. Mine started out when I threw out my back. One day I was lifting a grand piano with a pachyderm on it, and I felt great. Two days later I’m slouching on the couch watching a movie about under sea rail accidents, and when I went to get up I heard a crack and a little girl screaming. Both were me.
Trying to get a good nights sleep with the pain of a made-in-china back is impossible. It hurts no matter what position you sleep in. Turning over is also an adventure in creating new expletives.
I was walking around like Frankenstein’s monster, I couldn’t put my shoes on and I’ve got to wonder why the toilet roll is way around to the side rather than screwed to the front of the bowl.
I then picked up my son’s cold. Coughing or sneezing with a bad back hurts more than a poke in the eye with one of Nicole Richie’s shoulder blades.
Trying to get to sleep with a cold is next to impossible. Various fluids are draining out of various orifices at various times, and attempting to breathe makes a sound similar to the sound the last whirl makes going down the drain.
While this is all going on, I’m looking for a new place to live with my son William, who is 13, and my cat Zip, who is stupid. I was living on Gabriola Island, which is five kilometres and fifty years from Nanaimo, off Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, eh.
I was going to move to Squamish, which is on the mainland of BC between Vancouver and the town of white powder, Whistler. I thought I had a house rented when a newlywed zombie couple with the integrity of a George Bush peace proposal stiffed me out of the place.
So then I was searching for a place in Nanaimo that was close to my son’s high school and that allowed pets. It was four days before the end of the month before I found a place. A small, two bedroom, basement suite with a view of dirt.
Zip will never know how close she came to that big cat box in the sky. Now she is running for Parliament as she has a lot to say and it all sounds the same.
Between the pain in my back, a cold and the stress of finding a place to live with a deadline that was fast approaching, kept me up nights. I could barely get any sleep because my gut was going to rupture from stress and I was about to have a heart attack / brain embolism combo, hold the fries.
Now that I have a place I can relax by taking two thousand ferry trips as I move my mound of dollar store possessions with my truck and trailer. A woman would have rented a truck and crew and had the move done in a day. But I’m a guy. I’m going to take four days, burn enough fuel to fill an Olympic sized pool and, oh ya, probably throw my back out again.
I have truck driver arm and I’m so dehydrated I wiz dust. But boy, am I going to sleep tonight.
Technorati Tags:back pain,cold,disaster,sleep
I apologize for my lack of posts this month. My master plan was to post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, but this month has been treating me like a baby treats a diaper.
I’ll get this train back on track by July 2nd. Nose to the grindstone, wing-on-wing speed and squeeze the weasel and all.
Various disasters like tornados and burnt toast will crop up in your life from time to time. They can put a great day into the sewer and make a bad day seem like a year in prison with your mother in-law.
This month has been my disaster month. Mine started out when I threw out my back. One day I was lifting a grand piano with a pachyderm on it, and I felt great. Two days later I’m slouching on the couch watching a movie about under sea rail accidents, and when I went to get up I heard a crack and a little girl screaming. Both were me.
Trying to get a good nights sleep with the pain of a made-in-china back is impossible. It hurts no matter what position you sleep in. Turning over is also an adventure in creating new expletives.
I was walking around like Frankenstein’s monster, I couldn’t put my shoes on and I’ve got to wonder why the toilet roll is way around to the side rather than screwed to the front of the bowl.
I then picked up my son’s cold. Coughing or sneezing with a bad back hurts more than a poke in the eye with one of Nicole Richie’s shoulder blades.
Trying to get to sleep with a cold is next to impossible. Various fluids are draining out of various orifices at various times, and attempting to breathe makes a sound similar to the sound the last whirl makes going down the drain.
While this is all going on, I’m looking for a new place to live with my son William, who is 13, and my cat Zip, who is stupid. I was living on Gabriola Island, which is five kilometres and fifty years from Nanaimo, off Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada, eh.
I was going to move to Squamish, which is on the mainland of BC between Vancouver and the town of white powder, Whistler. I thought I had a house rented when a newlywed zombie couple with the integrity of a George Bush peace proposal stiffed me out of the place.
So then I was searching for a place in Nanaimo that was close to my son’s high school and that allowed pets. It was four days before the end of the month before I found a place. A small, two bedroom, basement suite with a view of dirt.
Zip will never know how close she came to that big cat box in the sky. Now she is running for Parliament as she has a lot to say and it all sounds the same.
Between the pain in my back, a cold and the stress of finding a place to live with a deadline that was fast approaching, kept me up nights. I could barely get any sleep because my gut was going to rupture from stress and I was about to have a heart attack / brain embolism combo, hold the fries.
Now that I have a place I can relax by taking two thousand ferry trips as I move my mound of dollar store possessions with my truck and trailer. A woman would have rented a truck and crew and had the move done in a day. But I’m a guy. I’m going to take four days, burn enough fuel to fill an Olympic sized pool and, oh ya, probably throw my back out again.
I have truck driver arm and I’m so dehydrated I wiz dust. But boy, am I going to sleep tonight.
Technorati Tags:back pain,cold,disaster,sleep