Today

Cake wants to know, WHAT the actual spinal fuck?!

It's Monday. My back and chest are sore and achy as hell. Why? I suspect it's because, when using the rollator (for my seawall walks) I'm clutching the handles so Schwarzeneggerly tight that, one of these days, I'll end up with diamond grips. 

All the pressure I exert makes my back and chest muscles hurt. The pain makes me tense up. The increased tightness inflates the stabbyness and I find myself locked in a fucked up pain loop.

I'm afraid of falling, but I haven't gone ass over teakettle in months and months. Even so, I'm having a nasty-ass time relaxing my upper body.

I see my outpatient physical therapist today—maybe she'll have some effective relaxation schemes. Meantime, I'm cranky as a busload of chaos demons being sent off to Marie Kondo Camp. (Hint: Marie always wins!)

Our visitor feral, Ghost Cat, is looking very healthy. I wish he'd come inside before it gets cold.