rotator cuff

I have a torn rotator cuff. or cup. call it what you will. I believe it is cuff. Anyway, Sid, pictured here,



took me for a walk and jerked my arm so hard he tore it. So for the past month or so, I have been in pain. Now, on top of my recent complaint: the snot-fest, I am miserable this morning. I slept all day yesterday, and thanks to my shoulder injury, not much of the night, and am happily NOT, for a change, driving to fucking McMinnville.

My arm is numb.
I am waiting for the job interview phone call.
I am going to take the maxx out to hillsboro and have lunch with my sweetie.
It may involve shopping.

Last night, we got the free tree.



and, like asia, I was grateful. I set aside all of my consumerist perfectionism and decided a free tree wasn't so bad. And like charlie brown, I can make anything beautiful.

And then my husband says, "Does the tree smell funny?"
"Smells like mentholatum to me," I reply. "But so does Sid." My nose is caked with it and Sid licks my nose.

So I wipe off my nose best I can and get up close and personal with the tree. It smells like trash. The pig farmer said he'd thrown it on the burn pile with a bunch of other trees from the boy scout sale that didn't get sold. And it smelled like a nasty old burn pile -- a non-wood burn pile, like garbage and burnt egg shells--my personal un-favorite. I hate it when people with wood stoves burn egg shells and that is what it smelled like.

"Nasty." I said. "Get it out of here."

So on went the night. MY darling husband, of course, had to post it to the free section of Craigslist and we answered the phone all evening and put a free sign on it. It is gone this morning, and who knows who got it? Some passerby, I hope. I just hope it had been sitting out long enough to air out a little.

So, that's my day, sitting at the keyboard, looking out on a frozen Clinton Street in the near dawn of a good friday.