Most mornings I wake up to low-level pain and as the day progresses it’ll amp up.
But I was insanely (for me) busy over the weekend and this makes my body very angry. Imagine Bruce Banner saying, “You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
Fibromyalgia is like the fucking Incredible Hulk, you guys.
I plan to just sit here and ignore it until I can’t anymore. It’s like playing a game almost. Let’s see who will give in first, the fibro or myself when I finally succumb and take a pain pill.
I’m so stubborn. Everyone says so.
I have other options to try first, like muscle rub and my heating pad.
By golly, it’s time for a random swear.
I think little Edith needs to practice more on her swearing skills. That shit is pretty weak, Edie.
In other news, my daughter talked me into a later curfew.
“We’ll discuss it when you turn 20,” I said like this idea was really going to work out well for me. (Procrastination in its truest form.)
“Come on! It’s only a half hour longer and you know I’m always home on time.”
True, the child gives me no reason to distrust her. Fuck.
“Okay, fine. One o’clock in the morning it is.”
Yeah, yeah. Sure thing kiddo.
The next thing you know, she’ll actually want to move out.
As most of us are aware, today is Election day.
I plan on watching CNN all evening. I’m tempted to buy a bottle of tequila but alcohol doesn’t mix well with anti-anxiety medications.
Hell, alcohol doesn’t mix well with my stomach.
By tomorrow at this time we will have the answer to who will be running the country for the next 4 years. I did my part and that’s all I can do.
I have a couple coming to buy a love seat from me this afternoon. I’m not sure if I should go out to the garage in my pajama pants or actually put on a pair of jeans for the occasion.
Hang on, I’ll flip a coin. Be right back.
Okay, jeans it is. Won’t they be impressed!
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