23 January 2012

Odds & Endz #864729, because it's 3:30 in the freaking morning and I can't sleep.

I never thought I'd miss stabbing myself with one of these every night. And I did, from April 2003 until July 2011, a .1ml shot of growth hormone, because my brain hasn't made any since 2002. I stopped because I was encroaching on 50 years old, and the older I get, the higher the cancer risks, and HGH just makes cancer grow faster.

Still...going off of it means added body fat, less lean muscle mass, and an unhappy me when I get on the scale. The 50 pounds I lost? Half of it is back. It was expected, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it. But the real drawback is that your body uses growth hormone to repair muscle, and without it, all those little nicks and tears you get just by existing take longer to heal.

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Because I do not engage in much forethought, I decided that the front room--where the spiffy gym equipment has lived, mostly unmolested--really needed to be painted. It was two shades of beige, one medium, one dark, and since the house doesn't get a lot of natural light, it felt like a cave. So I decided it needed to be the nice, soft yellow that the kitchen and the family room is. Yesterday I put up a coat of primer, and a coat of yellow; it needs one more coat but I ran out of light, and I need about a half gallon more paint.

Here's the thing about painting a room that has 10 foot ceilings: you go up and down a ladder a lot. You bend over, kneel down, twist and turn and stretch, all while moving that paint roller back and forth. It's an ouchy kind of thing.

Today...today I got up and I don't think there's but 2 square inches on me that isn't sore. And I think those 2 inches might just be numb.

When we moved in here three years ago, I painted. I turned the library red, two of the bedrooms blue, and I was able to paint several days running. Today I did not go buy more paint, nor did I even contemplate getting a couple of walls finished. Nope, I sat in my chair and watched TV and played online, and said multiple bad words every time I had to get up to pee.

On a scale of 1 to 10, the ouchiness is about a 7.3... If I was still taking HGH, it'd probably be a 3, and I'd have finished the room.

Meh...not really worth whining about since I know I'll feel fine in a couple of days. It's just the idea of it all. I start out most days achy, I don't want to pile more on.

Plus, I'm really sleepy but the freaking wind and rain is keeping me awake, so I whine.

Here's your cookie for reading this far.

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Part of my online play today was looking at other peoples' tattoo pictures; I've been doing this a lot, mostly for the hell of it. But I came to the conclusion that if I got every tattoo that makes me go ooooh neato the only area not inked would be that 2 square inches that isn't achy right now.

I like tattoos, but I don't think I want to go that far...

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I miss having Borders to go to for people watching and writing. The closest reasonable substitution I've found is Panera, but if I think I weight too much now? Sheesh, in the time it takes to wrote a book, I would easily add a hundred pounds to that.

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The extent of my social awkwardness? I still haven't talked to Siri on my iPhone.

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There's chocolate in the kitchen, and I can hear it calling my name. I'm trying to ignore it, but it keeps whispering that middle-of-the-night chocolate is calorie free.  I think the chocolate is lying to me.

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At 3:42 a.m., that sounds really funny. I'm pretty sure that at noon I'll look at this and think, "WTF is wrong with you?"

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And finally, something spiffy...

A sea cave in Florida.

Ok, almost 4 a.m., time to try to sleep again...