Halloweeniebutts

Not too many kids tonight, what with the friggin hurricane that just rolled through the other day, but the good, courteous ones? They were nerds and superheroes and witches. *sniff* So sweet.

They got extra candy.

Happy Halloween & Brightest Samhain blessings on you, whether you're tricky or a treat.

Cosi Cosa

Instead of the hub getting a boatload of OT by staying at work through the storm, they closed the place down for a day or so which means he's stuck with me tomorrow during the hurricanasaurus...and he won't even get paid for it. Part of me (okay, most of me) is glad he won't be a highway away for three days and nights. I'm not gonna lie to you, Marge, I was plain scared to be here alone. Yes, I know the cats will be here too, but they have no thumbs. That Man is away til' tomorrow morning, so he says, but if this storm becomes truly huge I'll bet he won't be home either.
Which would leave me alone with thumbless howling fuzzbutts and no transportation should the need arise.

So yes, I am a bit happier knowing ill not be gimping around with potentially no power.

Now if I could just go the fuck to sleep!

Head to Toe

Don't you hate those mornings wherein you awake feeling certain that a fleet of monster fucking trucks not only drove over you, but drove through you?

Me too.

But today is costume-making day for my dear friend, and if there's anything to distract me from this ridiculous pain, it's making gory costumes. Also cats.

Descriptive

My brain is full of words and images and concepts, but mostly words. I read the dictionary for fun, scrabble is my favourite board game, books are my closest & oldest friends. The hardest part of each move for me was always my books, since there are hundreds of them. I returned a love letter once with red pen corrections (to be fair, he'd misspelled "the".) (yes, really). Now that you've a better understanding of my verbivore habits, can you tell me why I've been thus far unable to accurately describe the pain I am in each fucking day? 'Cause I sure as shit can't. Have some words:

Aching
Dull
Shooty
Twitchy
Bruised
Broken
Heavy
Sore
Stabby
Fiery
Pointless.

If these were shorter-than-average miners names, we'd all be fuckled.

Time to put food in me and then add the pills and then go back to my comfortable & warm prisony bed.

(Yo stabby, c'mon over and get the pity-bus outta here, now)

Sometimes I Wonder

Why did I grow up to be disabled?

Why did men take advantage of me at every age?

How can I make everything better?

What is the point of living like this?

Aah, but then I remember the answer to the last one: the point is to live. To join my breath to the world, to brighten days and shoulder some of the heavy burdens. To make people laugh.

I can not make everything better for everyone, but I can make them better for me. That doesn't solve my problem, but it's a nice sentence...

Bah. I'm trying to be positive. Helpful. Supportive. But all I am is tired, sore, frustrated and nervous.