What the fuck? The front has moved, the weather is actually pretty nice, and you've decided to fill up with stuff the consistency of cement? I am not pleased, and am considering beating you with a q-tip. Fortunately for you, we had DayQuil with pseudoephedrine in the house, because that wimpy stuff you can buy without being recorded by The Man doesn't beat you hard enough. With a stick.
Dear Arms and Hands,
Yes, I know I used you to get ice and snow off both cars, but really, why the sulking now? I can't work the mouse, I can't hold a book, and I can't do my left-handed crosswords without you screaming, even through extra painkillers (which I really can't afford to give you this month, as I will run out two days before I see my doctor again)*. Give it up, and succumb to the analgesic and anti-inflammatory pads I'm slapping all over you.
*No worries, I keep a back-up stash for situations like these.
Dear Lower Back,
Oh, come on. I've never had any problems with you ever*, and now you decide that hurting so bad in the morning that I can't turn over without yelping is a good idea? Get over yourself - I already prop everyone up with massive number of pillows - if I get any more, Bob won't fit in the bed.
*Except for that time with the brick, but that was kind of funny in retrospect.**
Dear Right Knee,
Knock it the fuck off. You hurt all the time now. I know you got bent in a bad way that time when I was fencing years ago***, but please resrtict yourself to hurting when the weather changes, and not every time I curl up on the sofa. I sew using you to hold up my work, and it's getting annoying. It's bad enough that I can't kneel in court any more because of a combination of you and the risk of me falling (bad for the hands), but interfering with my sewing is too much.
Fuck off and behave,
I see the extremely expensive face stuff I have been using on you is making you soft and nice-looking. Keep up the good work.
Yes, I fractured one of you, toes - it was an accident (the hammer bounced). Get over it, and stop cramping in revenge. I'm drinking tons of liquids, I'm excercising you, and I'm staying (mostly) out of the 3" heels (this last weekend being an exception, but I was visiting friends, and they're awesome shoes). KNOCK IT OFF.
Die in a fire,
**The back story (ha, ha): We were down at the farm - this was years ago - and I was pulling old bricks out from behind the old garage to edge my flower beds. Bob was on the riding mower we had then, and cruising around every now and then, and all was peaceful (it was a gorgeous spring day). I bent over to get a brick, and I swear, there was an audible pop in my back, and all of a sudden, I couldn't move. I sort of fell over into the grass, and waited for Bob to come around on the mower. As he did, I sort of weakly raised my arm and waved, and he waved back and disappeared again.
I thought "Oh, crap. He doesn't realize anything's wrong. I'm going to have to wait here for a bit". I lay back, preparing to feel super ultra sorry for myself. All of a sudden, he comes running over, picks me up, helps me into the house and onto the sofa, and fusses over me to the point that I was thoroughly ashamed of my "pity me!" moment in the grass. He told me later, "I thought to myself - 'oh, she's just taking a rest'. Then I realized, why would she be taking a rest right there behind the garage? I went 'oh, crap', and came and found you".
I love the idea that he thought I was taking a rest. In retrospect, I find it hysterically funny, though it hurt a bit at the time. Anyway, I haven't ever had any problems with my back since then (unlike my frikkin' knee), so this pain thing is a bit of a surprise.
***The knee story: I was fencing in a two-man team wth Bob years ago (we make an awesome team), and an idiot fencer threw himself at me, completely uncontrolled, on his knees. I sidestepped, and put my foot on some slippery leaves, and boom, went down, yelping. Bob was somewhat pissed about this, but took out stupid guy, and then the other guy, who had nothing to do with stupid guy. I'll let Bob tell the rest of the story if he ever wants to, but he is my hero for not only protecting me, but doing the right thing. I have since managed to land badly on the knee in fencing several times, but it doesn't stop me - unlike my frikkin' arms.****