Desperation

One of my major problems this week is severe back pain.

It's like one of my hips (or maybe my whole pelvis? I don't know anatomy, something is fucked up--that's as technical as I can get about it) is crooked or out of place and I'm in terrible pain. When I cough or sneeze, I have to brace myself and I feel like I'm going to pass out because it hurts so bad. It hurts to sit, it hurts to stand, it hurts to lie down, it hurts to walk. It hurts all of the time.

When I have to drive, I stand and stare at my SUV with trepidation, knowing that getting up into it is going to make me want to throw up. Last night as I was lying in bed, it was so impossible to find a comfortable position that I wanted to cry.

I was looking for an affordable solution online last night and encountered the web page of a fat, gray, 70-some year old man with a handlebar mustache who gives free nude massages on his back porch. He likes to be nude when he does the massages. And my first thought was, "Looks legit. I wonder if he could help my back."

Seriously. I would do anything for it to stop hurting.

Including allowing a creepy, nude senior citizen to rub my naked body.

For real. It's bad.

Oh God!

9:02am We are out of Excedrine. Shit.

This can't be happening to me. Not now. Not today.

I really might die this time. I know I've said it before but I was just being dramatic then. If I don't see you all again, know that I loved you.

9:46am Well, if I don't die, E-bull might. Today, either all of the drawers get baby locks on them, or I move out. Period.

(If I don't die that is, I think that is the most likely scenario. This can't be a hangover or a migraine, this is definitely an aneurysm or a brain tumor or a concussion or blood on the brain or something big time like that. Nothing to joke about. Oh God, I just want to go lie on my cold, dirty bathroom floor and dry heave. I like how Mr. Ashley thinks getting up with the kids 6 days a week means he gets to sleep until 10am on his day. Fuuuuuuck, someone tell that kid to be QUIET.)

10:02am I'd trade a blow job for 2 Excedrine. It's that bad.

10:12am Scratch that last part about the blowjob, Mr. Ashley offered to go to the store. (Don't tell him that offer was ever on the table. k?thxbai)

10:21am Is it illegal, or just not recommended, to lock your 1 year old out on the back lanai? Technically, it is still part of the house. I really can't imagine that there is a law against being separated by glass. Right?

10:45am Guess who found a Sharpie? You'll never guess!

Here's the other one. The one that is less likely to end up in the Police Beat in the paper one day.

Mr. Ashley just got back and the damn corner store wanted $10 for their Excedrine! That's what happens when you live in the woods, people can rape you for essential items and call it fair commerce under the theory of supply and demand. Bastards. So he got me Motrin instead. He may as well have gotten me peanut M&Ms...no way is Motrin going to take care of a tumor. Now he's trying to lure little kid away from me with powdered doughnuts. God bless him.

(By the way, anyone who is feeling sorry for Big Kid because his mom is obviously too lazy to take him for a hair cut...we've decided to go shaggy a la Zack & Cody style. A decision prompted by my laziness, but a decision nonetheless.)

I'm going back to bed. Pray that the Motrin works a miracle.