not working

I'm not. I'm bored. My arm is better now. I need a job. Or, I could write a book again, get it published and be rich. er. I wish I had the nerve to live on my creative wits, but so far, I have opted for a paying job.

My arm is not really all better. It hurts, or rather, I am usually aware of the recent surgery. But I am, like most bad patients, in a hurry to regain the lost season. I guess the fact that it was winter is something to be grateful for. I can think of many other things, such as my ability to heal.

And now that I am not sedated, I am not sedated.

I must quote a. of ashabot when she told me (of being medicated post surgery) something like this: "Once you go under you begin to drown, and pretty soon, air doesn't sound so good anymore."

That tiny little jones behind me now, I want air. I want to gulp it, to slurp it from the giant juicy peach of life, to never have to know sedation again. I want it all. We speak of moments of clarity... I want a lifetime.

It is good to be healthy. And like James Spader said on Ellen today, "...besides my lines and world events, the only thing i think about is my weight gain." So, on to the gym. I decided to wait for the physician's release before charging out to re-injure myself, but soaking in a spa sounds good. My tub works.