It's Friday night, 9:49 p.m. central time; I am watching "Clear and Present Danger" for the umpteenth time. I love it. I also love, and I mean LOVE, the Bourne films with Matt Damon.
Yesterday, I fell at the Health Club; later, I went to Mercy Medical Center and was examined by a doctor. Nothing broken, she said; and your body will hurt in different places in the next few days, she said; the bruising is deep and will take several days to surface; keep it iced; here is 800 mg. ibuprofen; here is Tylenol w/Codeine. You are released.
So, I left. Took forever to get the prescriptions filled. I was so angry and frustrated about my situation -- having fallen -- and by the folks cutting down the trees at the health club, and about EVerything! -- that I drove down Peirce Street crying in the car, the air-conditioned car.
I finally got the prescriptions filled, bought groceries and went home.
I hurt this morning. My hips hurt today. I didn't fall on my hips, but they hurt. I ate today; I ate a healthy sandwich; I ate cinnamon roll; I ate three ears of corn; I ate those damned peanut butter and chocolate cookies that Vicki brought to class yesterday. Jesus! Now I feel thick and like a failure.
I will watch a bit longer, then go to bed, take a Tylenol and drift away to sleep and not get up till I wake up. No alarm tomorrow.
I'm going to the city tomorrow.
Goodnight for now. I've had enough. Long week. More later.
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