Today is Michael’s birthday. Congratulations, honey! Now you can have your very own quarter-life crisis! We’re not doing anything special today, because I am driving all over hell and back to get him a Wii in a few days. In the interim, feel free to use the comments section to wish him a happy birthday and/or call him an old man.
We’re also not doing anything today because my spine has exploded. Two nights ago I went to a friend’s house to hang out, and stupidly spent the entire night sitting in a chair with no back. By the end of the night my muscles had tightened up so badly that I asked Chris to punch me in the back — sometimes that works to relax my muscles and give my back a “hey chill the fuck out” message. It worked this time, for a few hours, but then I decided to sleep on the couch because Michael was snoring and I was cranky. End result? I cannot move anything above my bra strap. I would have Chris hit me in the back again, but there is a bruise in the previous spot and I’m a big weenie.
Of course, the house is an ungodly mess after two days of immobility on my part. I’ve no idea what to do — ordinarily I’d ask Michael for some help, but dudes, it’s his birthday. I managed to pick up some trash and laundry earlier by using my toes, but now we’re down to the actual cleaning portion of events and… no. It’s not happening. I need one of those cleaning robots like on The Sims.
I am growing ever more excited about our plans for the next couple of months. The Roswell trip is happening in two weeks, and after that it’s just a brief pause until Denver. I keep looking around the house going, “Fuck, we’re still here?” February and March are going to rule.
I didn’t really have an outline for this entry (or, indeed, anything to write about), but I feel I’ve done my duty nevertheless.