I've been really busy, but not busy at the same time. Hard to explain. Lots of irons in the fire, but not a lot for me, physically, to do. So I'm just worrying. I did a lot of up-front work, maybe that's why I feel like I'm not really doing anything, but I've been in what feels like a constant state of panic for the last few weeks. Staring at my phone, or the computer, just waiting for the next three sentence email I need to write. It's very weird. And exhausting. This must be what it felt like to be a telemetry guy on a moonshot. I had my screwed up shoulder "fixed". It's been five weeks today since I had surgery and I still can't use it and it still hurts like hell every minute of every day. Pain pills, the narcotic kind, don't work so I've stopped taking them unless it aches so bad at night that I can't sleep. I'm running out of those little pixies and just as well. They only last a couple of hours and then I'm up and whining again. I'm not a stretchy guy, and keeping my arm in one spot for six weeks is making it real hard to move. Seriously, my tendons are like that kid in that movie who gets so tight after a broken arm that he can throw a million mile an hour fastball. On the plus side, I've lost a ton of weight. Can't eat, don't wanna, and the only thing that keeps me from murdering everyone because I've gone mad with pain is to get my ass out and walk around. Oh, and I can't booze because no pain pills at night if you booze. So Saturday, when I boozed, I got like four hours of sleep in fifteen minute increments and seriously thought of just ending it all with another bottle of wine and the rest of my oxycodone. I can't even drive my car because it's a manual and my right arm is the one that doesn't work. Seriously. It should be better by now. Fuck you, maddad's shoulder. Fuck you, you prick. Like I ever did anything to you.