There are days when my body rebels, for whatever reason, and this is one of them. I try to think of them as when the union goes on strike and refuses to do what I ask until repairs are made. It has its reasons and its rights.
However, sleep comes in an hour here, an hour there and when the pain is like this there is little else I can think about so I won't bore you with that. Fortunately I can still read and at least check out of the building while it does whatever repairs it nneeds to do.
I'm reading American Gods. I highly recommend it. It may be my new favorite book of all time, and not just because it's taking me out of myself. Quite a lot of food for thought in a fast, dense story. Neil Gaiman wrote it. I'd only ever read his book about a boy raised in a cemetery before; I'll read all his books now.
It's a beautiful day otherwise. Strider's outside painting her house. I just scared her by standing silently in the bathroom window looking at her. Gotta get your jollies, you know...