Ten godsdamned hours in that forsaken hotel.
My fibro picked today to assert itself over my body, remind me that it is a broken machine. Things burn, sting, and throb—some all at once. My head hurts, feeling like it has been inflated wrong.
… heads shouldn’t be inflated at all though, should they…
I plan on collapsing into bed when I get there. I’m in too much pain to eat. The only reason I am able to function at all right now is that I had my dear sweet Zappy—you know, my tens unit—in my bag. Enough muscles have been zapped into painlessness that I was able to get into the bus and train.
But I still won’t be home until ten thirty. An hour from right now.
And tomorrow is going to suck. I’m definitely in trouble with the boss. My only comfort is that I am not the only one in trouble.
… time to wait for another bus.