You made it through the title. Now what say we do a little rambling diary like action? Any objections?
No?
I don't know why: whenever I miss like more than a day of regular posting I'm compelled to write some sort of apology post, as though the three people who actually read this blog are somehow offended that I failed to provide them with ridiculous pictures of medieval torture and idiotic commentary and quasi-story like posting and griping or what have you. So I guess this is it.
Allow me to explain myself.
Towards the end of last week, I was sick. And somehow, inexplicably, during that illness I managed to somehow, inexplicably, pull some sort of muscle in my chest. Don't know how I did it. No memory of it. I just know one morning I woke up and it hurt to stand up straight. It hurt to twist my torso or lay on my side and it even hurt to take a deep breath unless I was hunched over while breathing, in which case my lungs wouldn't press against whatever the hell I had managed somehow, inexplicably, to strain.
Saturday I had planned to go see my girlfriend in the suburbs. This did not happen because I was sick and huched over like an old man. Instead, I spent the day withering away in my studio apartment with the shades drawn like some sort of hermit; passing in and out of consciousness; laying in bed on my back where the pain couldn't find me; analyzing and reanalyzing myself as though I were some sort of medical professional.
'Am I sure it's a muscle thing? Could it be a heart problem or a lung problem? Are there alien eggs in my chest? Should I go to the emergency room? Do they handle alien egg infestations? Would they ship me to Area 51 instead? Would they perform some sort of experiments? Would they cut me into pieces and then analyze me and then lock the reports away for a hundred years and that's the last anyone hears of me?'
Crazy shit like that, just running through my head.
Around 9:00 PM Katie called me (Katie the greatest baseball girlfriend ever, that Katie) and we determined that I am probably losing my mind. So she came and rescued me.
There is nothing greater, when you live by yourself and you have some sort of illness, than to be taken care of by someone you love.
I don't normally post on the weekends. That's no excuse.
Okay, well let me see. We also have auditions all this week for our new Robot vs Dinosaur show. I'm codirecting it with Greg (Greg Wendling, old timey singing Greg for anyone who saw Greatest Stories. Anyone? No? Nobody saw it? To hell with you then.) and I'll be playing a couple of tiny parts in it too. So that's pretty exciting.
We spent Monday after work figuring out the transitions between scenes. I love them. I love the show concept. I love the scenes. I'm really looking forward to this show.
So, a lot of mental energy expenditure on that. I couldn't get to sleep Monday night for lack of shutting my brain up on that very topic. Talk talk talk, Brain. I'm trying to sleep here!
Fucking cortex!
And then, of course, there's college football coming up. Which the Detroit Free Press is trying to ruin for me and the fanbase to which I belong. I would mention details but for fear of the dread Clever Title sports curse. Luckily, I have found solace here.
And then, of course, I work a job. Which, hey, pays the bills. Which, oh shit, I have to pay those this week too.
Busy.
Okay, enough of this foolishness. Long story short: I've missed you, readers. Also, come see our show in October. Details will follow.
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