Thursday, September 08, 2005

Death comes calling

I look like death. Not even warmed over. Pale, pasty-faced, wild-haired, blurry-eyed and with purple bruises mushrooming all over my right leg from the shots. The worst one was around my knee. I'm still having trouble bending it. The doctor said "You'll be sore tomorrow" and he wasn't lying. No, not at all.


I imagine I'll wind up working on the site today, since all the housework-y things on my list would have me going up and down stairs...something that takes me about 5 minutes to do right now, with both hands clutching either the rail or the wall while I yell at the cats to please, please, stop twining about my legs because they are going to kill their mommy and then they'll be sorry with no one to feed them.

Or I might just sleep.

Except that I keep having the most outrageously weird dreams. I always have strange dreams, but last night was particularly odd. Really, really odd. It's like my normal weird dreams have gone to the carnival, stayed up too late riding the rides, and then thought they'd have a go at the biggest roller coaster in the place after taking some absynthe to get them in the mood. That kind of strange.

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