Walking around the house in my Nike Air Trackstar 3s at 6 a.m. I'm pretending my robe is a Neo style action coat.
Having fun the last few days with a sciatica flare up. This one makes my foot feel like I just shot it with a steel arrow every time I sit or move a certain way. Since I bit Scott's head off last night without warning (I think he survived, but I might need to send him on a trip to Hawaii after I sell a book because I don't know how else to give a husband a raise), I had a deep think last night and realized I'm holding too much in again.
Trying to cover so I won't be a drag on people around me sometimes backfires into sudden uncontrollable nasty bitch mode. I thought I had finally made it past that particular character option, but apparently I'm still very capable of destroying the universe.
TODAY. I know the game- get all over this if I don't want surgery. I've been playing this game since I was catapulted out of a violently flipping vehicle back around 1980ish. I know the secrets of the fire swamp and have lived here quite happily for a long time. Scott is getting really good at this stuff. As soon as Red Velvet Oreos show up in the Walmarts around here, he's getting homemade Valentine ice cream.
