After spending a several nights living out of a U-Haul and bouncing from hotel to friend’s futons, I am glad to have a home. Even if it means spending the majority of my time arranging and rearranging things or doing laundry. Being homeless sucks and I don’t recommend it at all.
This weekend, Spliff and I have managed to completely avoid seeing people we know and have ALMOST arranged the office the way that we would like it. And I have ALMOST finished getting the sickening smokestack smell out of every single thing I own. But my space is a far cry from feeling like home. But shit, after the last two weeks, I’ve come to the conclusion that…home is where my BED is. So…there ya go.
I threw my back out somehow and went to work yesterday feeling like I got hit by a bus. I’m used to waking up feeling like that, but I am stubborn and I don’t like taking painkillers or muscle relaxants at work, but by yesterday afternoon, I was seeking out the people at work that I knew had the good stuff…to make the shit stop. But to no avail. I actually ended up hunting down my acupuncturist in the hallway (I was on my way across the hall to his office when I saw him and yelped, “HELP!”). After he dragged me into his office and started trying to “release the muscle that is spasming” (which feels more like some kind of cruel torture strategy and makes me wonder if he isn’t really a physical terrorist) and I started crying, he wrote me a prescription for some weird type of muscle relaxant that I’ve never been on before…Hell, I’ve never even heard of it. But…I can say that, dammit, that shit makes me happy. Happy, giggly, sleepy and quite spacey! I love it. But it doesn’t really help my back. Eh. Whatever. At least I won’t notice how much pain I am in until morning. And that is when I will just take another one. So…it all works out.
Either way, things are going well. Spliff and I are spending our evenings organizing and giggling and it feels like she never left. (Today the giggle-worthy finds were pictures of the "Gnome-napping of 2003" and the night we met Damian Marley...delicious.) Except that before, our apartment was the size of our current living room and had a kerosene heater (which we never used because we were scared of it). EEEK! Things are good. (I hope I didn’t just jinx myself there. Knock on wood. And again. And again.)
Tags: life , moving , Spliff