Saturday

You know things don't bode well when you think "This is a Vicodin kind of evening" and it's only 9:30 in the morning...

My back is now in revolt; it has been for a week or so and is steadily getting louder in its complaints. I'm pretty sure what it's saying is you take one more box up one more stair and I'm going to make you wish you were never born...

Well, it also mutters something that rhymes with "witch," but I'll be delicate here.

For once.

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