Yowza

I hate waking up with a backache. It just puts a crimp in the whole day knowing that things are starting out bad and are bound to get worse. Somehow, back in the day, it seemed that every day was the start of... anything. The possibilities were endless. There were limits and guidelines and structure, always, but there was also the chance that anything could happen. That seems not to be the case anymore, or at least I let myself think that it's not the case anymore.

Except here, at the keyboard, where there are still endless possibilities and anything can happen. I might, some day, actually spell possibilities correctly on the first try and not type possiblities. It could happen. And I might get to find out what happens to that nice man and his wife, the one who's going to die within the year from a brain tumor -- one she doesn't know she has, by the way -- even though I know, at least in terms of the general outline -- what's going to happen.

And, of course, there are all those people in Calamity Falls, most of whom I haven't even met yet, who are going to live their lives, have crises, triumphs, failures, romance, rejection, and all those things that happen to fictional people. But I'll have to somehow find a way to get beyond meal preparation and household reconstruction and finding a place for all the stuff that's accumulated in the office. And, of course, simulataneously planning for any of the eight disasters headed my way.

But for now there's the coffee and that ache in the small of my back and a laundry list of things that Have to Get Done because Nobody Else is Going to Do Them.

Ick.