When your wife hires church kids to clean your house and rake your lawn while your ass grows roots in the sofa to take in an entire competitive Browns-Steelers game, you've got a great wife.
When you wish your wife didn't have to do that because you'd rather be able to take care of the leaves yourself, you've been laid up for too damned long.
I find myself feeling guilty for *not* being in awe-inspiring pain these days, because the only time I'm not in pain is when I take it easy and don't do too much.
Yesterday I drove around a bit. Driving for an hour takes as much out of me as walking for an hour used to - if not more. It wasn't too bad - I felt a little drained and a little dizzy, but nothing I'd call awful. Today the only thing I lifted was a slice of pizza. (Granted, it was a deep-dish pizza from Rasicci's, so for pizza, it was rather hefty.) The dull throb is quite noticeable and constant. To steal a phrase from Kip: This sucks worse than the suckiest suck that ever sucked a suck.
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