Chicken Poop for the Soul

Fair warning: I'm in a pissy mood, and anyone who reads this should be too.

Last night, after playing the DnD game, I finished Cryptonomicon (a fantastic book with a great ending; Stephenson's writing style is enviably good) and then tried to go to sleep. So I tossed. And turned. And tossed. I was too hot, so I turned on the fan. I was too cold, so I slid under a blanket. I was too hot, so I shed a blanket. Then my legs started getting spazzy. This was about 1 AM. Then, the cats started running around. At this point, I was so frustrated I managed to capture one and woke Liz up at the same time. It still took me another hour to get to sleep once the cat was in custody.

This morning, at first light (or somewhere around six), I woke to the sound of more thundering cats. I'm not sure how an animal that weighs ten pounds can make so much fucking noise as it runs around; my working theory is that they can increase their mass on demand, violating several laws of physics in the process. Ten minutes later, as I was falling back to sleep, they resumed their chase until one of them made the mistake of landing on me. So a six fifteen, about four hours after finally getting to sleep, I was wide awake.

The pain in my lower back is worse. I've been doing some stretches I learned in yoga to try to lubricate the joints in that area, and they result in my spine cracking like a guy walking on a bed of cockroaches. And, this morning, my entire hip joint popped. I've never had that happen before, but it was not a pleasant experience.

I've got a dentist's appointment today, which is gonna eat up my lunch hour.

Blah.