I don't feel well today. I have a pain in my right lower rib and side. I may have pulled something, I may have slept wrong or it may be something worse. I feel sick. Kind of a washed up, toxic sick, but with the added business of my rib hurting. Whatever. Who cares what the specifics are. I'm not going to the doctor. Not yet, or ever if I can maintain my stubbornness. If I do die, I'm hoping it will be quicker than this.
I've felt worse, but I always get alarmed when my overall bad feeling lasts more than a couple of days. I really feel bad. So much so that I worked on my will today. In the event of my death, I have a notification letter that will auto-email if I don't constantly reset the send date. This will go out to 2 people, mainly to give them a heads up to come take care of my pets. But they will also be instructed to call my mom and father-in-law. The information about my will is on the computer, not really notarized or particularly well thought-out, even.
Not sure why I'm writing this. I just feel like I may not get better, and so I should say something. What that is, I have no idea. Goodbye? It's been nice decomposing with you?
Saturday, February 16, 2019
The drama queen who cried wolf
Hi, I'm Andrew, AKA Hoodyup the Evil Caregiver, and I approved this blog post. I may not have been in my right mind at the time, but what's done is done. I stand by my sins. Eppur si muove.
I started this blog as a way to vent my frustrations with life, the universe and everything (not the book by Douglas Adams; that was quite good, actually).
My seemingly charmed life took a turn in 2004 when my wife Sharon was diagnosed with MS. This blog documents the fallout and revisits the past, as well as chronicling my dreams and rants throughout the years.
Be warned - explicit language and content that runs the gamut can be found in these posts, which describe personal events, both real and those dreamed up by my overactive nocturnal psyche.
Also, I use real names whenever possible, so if you see a post with your name on it, it probably refers to you. Unless, of course, you don't know me, in which case it is purely coincidental.
Enjoy your visit. Comment, if you so desire, or lurk privately. This blog can be your guilty pleasure (or displeasure).
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.