Monday, 12/20 -- I'd bet having "saber teeth" was pretty cool at the time.

It's about a quarter to midnight, and I'm sitting here waiting for my Advil to take effect. I don't want to attempt lying down without the aid of some pain suppressants.

Today was another day of sitting on the couch, not doing much. It's counter to what I believe is good for me.

I've always followed the school of thought that the best thing for a sore back is movement. Some people claim that rest is the best thing. I look at it like this: If we were "wild humans" living on the dusty fields of ...wherever, and I hurt my back... I'd be next in line to feed the saber-toothed kitty. Know what I mean?

Luckily, I'm not being stalked by any saber-toothed brute. But I still think that it's in my best interest to keep moving. To keep on truckin', as it were. Sadly, I can't do that right now. The injury is too severe.

Our three cats sense my vulnerability and are licking their chops as I type this. Charcoal, the Russian Blue that I've pictured here before, she doesn't have any teeth. She's planning on gumming me like a redneck with a fresh tin of Redman chawin' tobaccy.

What has my life become?

Tuesday I'm going back to the doctor's office to learn more about my health and it's ever changing condition. I'll be sure to report any findings that are interesting.

Thanks for your continued support.
Seriously.

Nah, I mean really.