A Pain in The….

Sergei threw his back out yesterday. In a weird and unexpected way. Poor thing was hobbling around last night, even to Important Local Government Function, and I could tell it was hurting. He dosed up with meds, but nothing seemed to work.

This morning, by the time I drug my sorry ass to work, my own back had seized up something fierce, and neither caffeine nor ibuprofen is helping. Not even that cat-cow yoga stretching thing. Not even visualizing the pain away.

Are back problems contagious? I mean, when Sergei’s back was in bed last night, could the Back Germs have crawled over to me and attached themselves to my spine with their tentacle-like pinchers?

Or.

Maybe.

It was because when I crawled in bed last night, bare-ass nekked except for socks on my chilly feet, I tuned in to a show on Discovery Health Channel that had the coolest 3-D x-ray spec pictures of sex, sexual organs, sexual whatnot, which consequently led my imaginative brain to carry out dreams wherein I was swinging on a sex trapeze, in the middle of a forest, all light green like an old photo, with various folks walking around in states of undress and arousal, and...finding myself in bed this morning in the most contorted position ever?

If I Only Had a Beard

I've been waiting for the "Must Have" gift of the Season to make itself known to me...and here it is.

I'm not so sure about the 'stache, though...it's sort of porn-star. In an almost-icky way. (Hey, I got nuthin' against porn stars.)

(I wonder if they make any with long hair, or maybe a beehive? That would rawk.)

Thickfreakness

I've been totally "ON", baby, totally going over my internal speed limit, blowing past the white speed-trap machines, hitting Mach-whatevah until my insides shake and I feel dizzy with the motion.

Work is hell. Boychild has a birthday coming up, as do my two MILs (one of which is turning A Significant Age and is coming to our house to celebrate). Thanksgiving in two weeks. Jury duty. Christmas not long after that.

My To-Do lists have To-Do lists.

I actually think I do better when I'm totally stressed out like this, at least as far as getting stuff done is concerned. It does tend to bring out the snippy bitch in me, though (and the cashier at the grocery store last night was damn lucky I held my tongue...ya don't keep me waiting. Ya. Don't.).

I haven't been able to find a groove to it, though. A musical groove. Something to keep in a running loop in my head to inspire me or entertain me or keep me company while I'm running three errands in the 15 minutes between work and picking up the kids from school.

Until yesterday, when I found my Black Keys cd in my car. That shit rawks. Fuzzy, too-loud, balls-shakin' guitar garage blues rock. (If you're in a mood, pick up their cd "Thickfreakness". Seriously took me back to the late 70s, listening to a transistor radio through its hiding place under my pillow, while my mom thought I was sleeping, cranking Zeppelin and guitar-hero rock into my greedy ear. And now I think Black Keys owes me money for the shameless promotion.)

I'm in the Zone, baby.