Out of Sorts... or Sort of Out... or Something
Haven't said anything here in a while, so I'll start with a fundamental truth:
Pudding is good.
That being said, this has been a pretty crazy month, mostly made bad by my dislocated knee that makes me gimp around a lot. That really put me in a funk. More so because it really interferes with karate, which is one of my few joys in life. Even more so because they just told me I need surgery to go in and make it better. Curses. Now, granted, I'm all about making things better, and I'm sure the surgeons involved are skilled people who have no intention of causing harm or further damage. They don't want to get sued any more than I want to have my leg severed. Perhaps even less so. But this just makes me feel old and decrepit, like how old people are required to break their hip. Here I go, happy birthday, have a broken knee, you ancient bastard! Soon the rest of me will malfunction, and I'll be nothing but a puddle of protoplasm as my body disintegrates around me.
On the other hand, I haven't had a good surgery or hospitalization in ages. I'm about due. Last time I was hospitalized was for tuberculosis. I laughed at that. "Isn't that one of those primitive third-world diseases that no one gets any more?" No indeedy! I had a disease that actually strikes terror in half the southern hemisphere. Neat. I got a cool hospital room- it was like an airlock, and the medical staff had to go through some kind of decontamination room to get to me. I felt all Andromeda Strain and everything. Kickass. (For the record: The Andromeda Strain, by Michael Crichton, one of his older books, really good, I recommend it. They made a movie out of it as well, blah blah, read the book because it's better.)
And, soon, vacation time. My housemates say I already took a vacation, but that didn't count. This one will.
Pudding is good.
That being said, this has been a pretty crazy month, mostly made bad by my dislocated knee that makes me gimp around a lot. That really put me in a funk. More so because it really interferes with karate, which is one of my few joys in life. Even more so because they just told me I need surgery to go in and make it better. Curses. Now, granted, I'm all about making things better, and I'm sure the surgeons involved are skilled people who have no intention of causing harm or further damage. They don't want to get sued any more than I want to have my leg severed. Perhaps even less so. But this just makes me feel old and decrepit, like how old people are required to break their hip. Here I go, happy birthday, have a broken knee, you ancient bastard! Soon the rest of me will malfunction, and I'll be nothing but a puddle of protoplasm as my body disintegrates around me.
On the other hand, I haven't had a good surgery or hospitalization in ages. I'm about due. Last time I was hospitalized was for tuberculosis. I laughed at that. "Isn't that one of those primitive third-world diseases that no one gets any more?" No indeedy! I had a disease that actually strikes terror in half the southern hemisphere. Neat. I got a cool hospital room- it was like an airlock, and the medical staff had to go through some kind of decontamination room to get to me. I felt all Andromeda Strain and everything. Kickass. (For the record: The Andromeda Strain, by Michael Crichton, one of his older books, really good, I recommend it. They made a movie out of it as well, blah blah, read the book because it's better.)
And, soon, vacation time. My housemates say I already took a vacation, but that didn't count. This one will.