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after my "grace" incident...

I feel like someone kicked my ass.  i swear... i need to move someplace warm.  no ice.  no snow. 

my shoulder is sprained, and it hurts to put my jacket on, my hoodie on, reach above my head, push up off the couch, pull out my chair, push in my chair, you follow?

so i've been doing ice and advil.  and i'm walking like an old person.  i'm all stiff and shit.

so i decided not to shovel yesterday because 1. i hurt too much and 2. fuck winter.

but as an underlying brilliant plan, i thought: hey, if i shovel the slush, it will leave a sheet of ice on my driveway.  if i leave the snow, there will be crunchy snow, but i can get some traction on it when i walk.  so ha!  that's what i did.

then i'm watching the news this morning, and the weatherman says "one of the viewers convinced me not to shovel, and i'm glad i didn't cuz now i can get some traction on the crunchy snow and not a sheet of ice."

everyone wants to be like me, i swear.

so here's a thought i was having today (as i'm trying to look busy at work): i was realizing that i never posted my mag7 story "gone wrong" on my LJ.  it's on fanfiction.net, and i think i put the link on my lj, but i was thinking of posting it here (and in a couple of the comms that people may be interested in), and that way, when i finish the follow up that I'm working on right now, i could link them all together in one place, LJ!

maybe i will do that.  it's a good idea, right?


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Jan. 29th, 2009 04:21 pm (UTC)
All of the ideas above sound like a good idea - not shovelling away traction, posting your story here... ;) Hope you feel better soon - I hate that "just-got-my-butt" kicked feeling. I've slipped and fallen a few times on ice. Not fun at all.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
People spend thousands of dollars on therapy; I just beat shit with a hammer.


Monsters do exist. Ghosts too. They live inside us and sometimes they win.
~Stephen King


Better to write for yourself and have no public, than write for the public and have no self...
~Cyril Connolly


Oh! An Irishman's heart is as stout as shillelagh,

It beats with delight to chase sorrow and woe;

When the piper plays up, then it dances gaily,

And thumps with a whack to leather a foe.



"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!"

~The Cask of Amontillado


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