Parallax

Y'all would not BELIEVE the week I have had. Hospitals, a wedding, dog-sitting, controlled substances, mistaken identity, asking for time machines, being repeatedly frightened by David Duchovny, mistaking Marlon Brando for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and a pet rock to call my own (and/or wind a piece of string around).

The point where it all went wrong was on Saturday afternoon, a bit after three, when I decided to put my slippers on. Reach up with your left hand, to your back, a hand's span down under the right shoulder blade and next to the spine. Feel around a bit. There's a big muscle there that connects to practically everything. Feel it?

That's what I angered, and much like dread Cthulhu, it came up with an intention to end the world.

( This is a *long* story. I'm trying to write down everything I remember. )

I have no idea where Sunday went, or most of Monday. I remember drinking tons of water, and eating trail mix, and setting my DVD player to repeat-play the director's commentary on Episode Two of Star Wars. Which should show above anything else just how lost in space I was.

Somewhere on Monday evening or Tuesday afternoon - I have no idea - reality gently settled back in. I had one thought: oh shit, what about Dave's wedding?

But that's another story.