flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
Because I apparently have inflammation around the nerve in my thigh, which is why it feels like a constant gentle burning, occasionally interspersed with a furious fucking burning and sometimes, when I’m really lucky, sharp stabbing. Yay! Thanks, hours of overtime! The doctor asked whether I’d been standing a lot, or maybe dragging heavy objects around, which is basically what I do 49 hours a week right now, so bwahahahahaaaaa.
Before the opera gets angry calls, they’re giving me mostly sit down work right now, with breaks as needed to stretch, but racks still have to be pulled in at night, and the parking garage involves trudging up and down ramps, and I live up a flight of stairs, so owwww. Also, there’s no way there’ll be enough sit-down work to last till Carmen opens, so I’m trying to marshal my forces for when the niceness ends and the ‘well, it has to get done’ starts.
Anyway, sorry — I’m not usually this whiny about pain, but pain and exhaustion and our dickface of a designer combined are making me kind of a baby. Wah.