Please Disregard, It's the Pain Talking

Well, another weekend, another tubing trip, another valued personal possession lost to the water. Last time, it was my Budweiser old man hat, while my Taking Care of Business coozie was the victim yesterday. I find consolation in the fact that the items lost seem to be getting progessively smaller. Hopefully, that means that next time, I'll lose a finger nail or a one of those really tiny forks that came with my silverware set. I'm not sure what those little forks are used for; maybe they'd come in handy if Warwick Davis came over for dinner. However, far more serious than losing my favorite coozie was bashing the hell out of my back on a rock. The river is much like a meth-addicted lover: after she takes your stuff, she beats on you.

Aside from the pain, which, woe unto me, is great, the back whompin' is disrupting my life. For instance, I had to cancel my pick up basketball game with the neighborhood youth ballers today out of fear that if I showed up at 75%, I wouldn't be able to live up to my name as Slamma Jamma Powell. Also, since it makes sitting kind of painful, I lost some valuable crocheting time. Impair my hoops skillz and steal my ability to crochet: will you stop at nothing, whomped back? As you can see, this entry is horrible. I could blame many for this: myself, the government, Quadrophilios (the dark lord of the Internet). In the end, the blame goes where it belongs, to the crappy Advil knock-off that I got at the grocery store. Next time, I'll be putting my $1.79 worth of pain relief into something that can numb me properly into unconsciousness. I speak, of course, of furniture varnish. Tomorrow, I get back to the quality stuff.