Bottle of Brains

Under the gun to do something besides sit and watch yet another hour of the National Geographic Channel, since apparently neither my children nor my therapist want to hear anything more about volcanoes, submarines, how a guy survived a free-fall to earth after his parachute didn't open, or how the girl with 8 limbs is doing now (who knew there even WAS a girl with 8 limbs, let alone that we could get an update about her?), here I sit, blogging. Well, it's not only because my family is tired of my recounting my hours of reality TV addiction, but I have joined a group that I thought I never would (hey,I actually multi-tasked and joined two at the same time): the unemployed and disabled. Cool, huh?

It's funny how if you have no job and can't really go anywhere without someone to help...well...I don't know how to finish that sentence, actually. There's nothing really that funny about it. I hafta say, I am not a noble, patient, cool person to look up to right now. I am not bearing all this crap like those people you read about in magazines and stuff (great, so I am asking you to read about me? Well, no, but if you are, sit down, have a cuppa coffee and try to bear with me. I could use the company.) So the thing of it is, I am surprised, I will admit, at my own lack of bravado. I thought I would be one of those cool people. Nope!

Instead, I watch the aforementioned TV, drink a lot of coffee, and don't write all of the cool books I swore I would if I were ever confined to bed (which I feared I would be if my back ever gave up on me, which it apparently has...at least for now...even though I still haven't given up on it. We'll see who is more stubborn in the end.)

I am shocked at the weird thoughts that jump into my head when I am all alone, all day long, with just the cat to hang out with. I don't even know why it is, that the longer you're with yourself, the closer you get to wanting scream out the window, just to check and make sure the rest of the world can still hear you. But believe me, all it takes is one missed car payment to let you know that you're very much missed.

There's no way to know whether it'll be a month or 6 months or more til I begin getting better. And that's just for my back. Then there's the rest of me they'll hafta fix. Anyone have a bottle of brains out there?