Can’t sleep. Maybe it’s for the best. I was laying in bed and remembered that I promised myself that I would start writing more. It seems to be a promise that I make myself regularly, but it’s probably better that I at least feel guilty about it. Better guilt than nothing at all.
Two weeks ago I had a discectomy. Apparently one of the discs in my spine was getting uppity and encroaching on the surrounding nerves. Since I don’t negotiate with terrorists I hired a crack team of neurosurgeons to go in and take out the rebellious section of disc. There was some unfortunate collateral damage, mainly in the form of them having to apparently chainsaw through by back to get there.
All things considered, I can’t believe how quickly I’ve healed. I’ve still got some pain in my leg, but it’s not nearly what it was before the surgery. And from what I can tell, the surgical wound itself is almost completely healed. I had the staples out yesterday. One downside is that the incision makes it look like my asscrack goes halfway up my back. So that’s cool. I’ll be the hippest cat at the beach this summer.
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When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up. -CS Lewis
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