narcotic haze

This morning I woke with the sensation that I'd overslept. Not that I had anywhere to be, I just hate to sleep past 9 and I knew I'd somewhere amongst the snoozes shut my alarm off completely. When I woke I assumed it was late, like maybe 10, and I felt a sense of groggy panic so I sat up really fast, straight up, and a pain tore through my back like lightening and my first word of the day was "FUCK!"

Which is to say, I pulled a muscle in my back this morning and now I feel like an invalid. I had all these things to do today. I won't bore you with the details of how I actually did them despite my infirmity. I'll cut to the good part, the part where I popped a Vicodin and crawled into a hot bath. What bliss. If only I hadn't had in the back of my mind the disturbing reality that I'd have to get up and drag myself to work by 4pm. Goddamn work.

I laid in the hot, hot bath and started reading Lady Chatterly's Lover, which I picked up from the library today. I don't know about you, but I alwasy just assumed this was another 19th Century novel of manners, or the lack thereof, set amongs Britain's aristocracy, but I was off by about thirty years. This book was published in 1929! I had no idea. Feels so modern.

I was just beginning to enjoy the book when the Vicodin swept over me like pulling down a gauzy curtain between me and my brain. My eyes got a little blurry. I realized I wasn't really following the words on the page. Wow.

Fortunately, the fog has lifted a little, my back feels marginally better, and now I'm heading off to work where I will try very hard to lay low and do as close to nothing as possible. And hopefully the Vicodin won't wear off for a long time.