I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled

My back is so messed up right now I'm taking the day off work to deal with it and rest. Yesterday I was in so much pain, and not even THREE ibuprofens made a dent. (I have it on good authority that four is the actual safe maximum, but don't take my word for it, ask your doc.) I could barely think straight so used a little graphics project at work to stay as focussed on other stuff as possible. I got it done, but all afternoon I fantasized about going home early and drinking myself into a numbed stupor. I'd have tried the eeeevil Robaxacet, but that stuff just makes me high (in a bad way), and does not do much else.

This morning, I woke up and puttered a bit, lined up some appointments, felt sorry for myself, and then cooked up a huge hamburger for breakfast, which I ate sans bun and with loads of worcestershire sauce and ketchup, followed by a hearty bowl of Crispix and blueberries with soy milk.

I can already feel my life force returning.