May 18th, 2003

smokin'

Owie

Yesterday I threw my back out giving Sarah a hug. I woke up a little while ago and it's ten times worse. Sure sign of age. The place where something went kablooey in my back is like a Chicago O'Haire airport-like nexus of sensation, everything I do is connected to it, so reaching, bending, stretching, and, worst of all, breathing, is all confined and hampered and hurts like hell. I couldn't sleep and now I am walking around like an eighty year old man, which, at least, matches my basic personality. This sucks, to borrow a phrase from Ogden Nash.

Anyway, I'm still going to go see he Matrix sequel in a little while, even though Sarah and I are behind the eightball on Kodocha and the Thing, respectively. We bought the tickets a week or so ago hoping we'd have more done. I guess when we get home we'll have to put in a marathon to reach today's goals, I have to get a batch of pages done to keep the sausage factory running. I had a good run last night on the second act, so I should be somewhat okay. I'm just looking forward to the end of this day, getting some work done and sleeping. Tomorrow I'm supposed to get a Fed Ex package from Dark Horse with copies of Jill Thompson's painted art for the Hauntings story we did together, I've been waiting 10 days to see the art and they've all got my expectations up. Everyone seems to love the art so my fingers are crossed. Anyway, there's something to look forward to, along with sharp, stabbing pains. Owie.