Sometimes it's not good to inherit things from one's parents. From my father, sciatica. Thank god for inheriting my mother's sense of humour. Though all that giggling as I crawled toward the medicine cabinet at 4am would probably be cause to have me committed, if anyone saw me.
I'm sure my body could have come up with a politer way to tell me that I shouldn't try to both swim and dance the weekend away in a nightclub. At least not without a ready supply of painkillers bought in advance. I guess it's time I picked just one way of abusing my body, and it should probably be swimming. The thought of that hurts more than the sciatica.
Owwwwww. Maybe not.
Posted by savs at August 23, 2005 5:47 AM