Who was that bastard Murphy?

 

And how did he get a law named after him? 

Less than a day after booking a flight for a short week at the beach, something in my back has crashed. If I were to list all the medical jargon, you would slip into a coma of boredom. I have. 

I saw stars and swore profound curses.

Normally, a hot shower fixes almost anything. This time, I was happy to stay on my feet and reach a chair. I took the last one of a bedtime-only medication and sat puzzling over my phone, trying to order refills for everything.  The cops will probably be waiting at the pharmacy.

Common knowledge suggests the cats have it right. Rest. 

I'm pissed that the nerve ablation has been a dismal failure this time. After all the time and expense, there's been little improvement. 

Could someone suggest to AI that we need a way to regrow functional spines?  Strong ones could be passed out to some CEOs, senators, and congresspeople.

I used to be tall. 

This is my summer uniform made from a light linen sheet. Really not much more than a pleated barrel with straps. I need to figure out sleeves for a cool-weather version.