Fond of rumpots, crackpots, and how are you, Mr. Wilson?

Not even going to bother numbering the Things, just gonna type until my job makes me resume working:

==> Woke up at stupid o'clock in the morning with a random leg cramp so bad that my howling woke up hypnagogie. It eventually calmed down and we both fell asleep again, but it's two days gone and still sore, although I can finally walk without shambling like a grue. Onward with the Advil and electrolytes.

==> I'm somehow done with Christmas shopping, more or less? Could y'all peek out your windows and see if there's like a plague of locusts or some such? 'Cause that shizz doesn't happen, like, ever.

==> Every year we make a point of watching every Oscar nominated movie in above-the-line categories (picture, director, acting, writing). Given how well The Substance is faring in preliminary awards contention, there's a good chance I'm going to find out which is stronger: my aversion to body horror, or my obsessive completionism. I suspect it's the latter. Hoo boy.

==> Addendum to the above: I did make it through Titane and a few other notables, so I'll probably be okay? Also, it's not like we never bail out of Oscar movies partway, so there is an escape valve. We made it 45 minutes into Blonde before the question of "Why are they subjecting us to this?" morphed into "Wait, why are we subjecting us to this?" and flipped to QI reruns.

I just bit my lip when I sneezed, so the Universe is telling me to wind this up. How's everyone doing?

This past weekend was supposed to be the final push to get the last of the detritus hauled out of the old cabin. I managed one carload before gravity had other plans for me: carrying a full clothes bin down the stairs, my foot missed its mark by just enough, my legs swung out from under me, and I landed tailbone-first squarely on the edge of an unfriendly stair. This is bad enough on its own, even before I mention that I did exactly the same thing only a few weeks earlier and still hadn't recovered.

It was kind of interesting, actually. My initial thoughts (after a sulky "Oh, crap, here goes this again...." on the way down) were, "Yikes, that sort of thing is rather uncomfortable." They weren't any more alarmed than that, until I realized that there was someone screaming blue Saxon murder and cussing emphatically very close to my head, and that I was there alone. "Egad," I thought, "I do seem to be carrying on! Perhaps this is hurting more than I initially believed! Hm, why, yes, I am in a great deal of pain! That would explain the staggering around the living room and punching the walls thing as well!" I took a moment to realize that no one was anywhere near earshot of the screaming, and thus no one would find my dead body for a long while if it had been my head, then made my way to the door. Right, ER it was, then.

There were challenges inherent in this, mostly related to sitting. Getting to my car was a minor challenge, but actually getting in and driving was a major one, seeing as how butt meeting driver's seat was enough to set off klaxons in my head and cue the yelping. Somehow I made it the 3/4 mile home and texted figmentj, with whom I only did two rounds of "no, no, I don't need any help" before accepting her offer to bail work and be my ambulance driver. I did the whole trip to the hospital riding on my left hip and crying at the potholes. The ER visit itself was predictable: hurry up and wait, layered with open-backed gown-related indignity. The prognosis: a broken coccyx, which you can't do much with except ice and (all praise to the medical community) VICODIN, which is God's love in tablet form.

It's still tender, and things like bending over or standing from a seated position still hurt like a mofo, but I do seem to be healing a little at a time. Our former landlady was good enough to give us another extension on the move, the folks at work have been sympathetic, figmentj has been a tremendous help, and prescription-strength ibuprofen has become a dear comrade / drinking buddy. And then there's the Vicodin—I last took it more than 24 hours ago, but it's still keeping me in a semi-catatonic state, which luckily doesn't affect my data entry duties in the slightest. Sleepy-time for Mr. Broken-Heinie!