Billboards and signs that make me laugh

• "Buy 1 chicken, get 1 free!"  (Fast food restaurant sign)  I really want to find a willing and gullible child, so I can tape the little one going in and asking how much it costs to get the free chicken and whether it's a hen or a rooster.
• "'Crouch without the Ouch' Ballroom Jeans" (Billboard for a clothing company that always has funny advertisements).  I snort every time I see this one.  It's just . . . well, I think it's funny.

Seen any good advertisements lately?

Roads not there

There is massive construction on the only road that leads away from my apartment.  Massive.  The location of the actual road changes weekly, sometimes daily.  Sometimes it's closed completely.  They're rebuilding the bridge over the highway, so the location of the exits changes frequently, too.  Right now, one is at an impossible angle, and I saw a miracle: a semi perched on the embankment after failing to make an impossible left turn onto the ramp.  A couple more feet, and it would have crashed onto the highway below.

Before the snow came, people drove like idiots even when things were clearishly marked by signs and lane painting and orange barrels.  Now that the snow is here and sometimes covers the road, I am not going to be taking that road anymore.  There are far too many idiots out there with drivers' licenses, and I don't want to meet them.

Sorry, Frost.  :)

Why he stopped by the woods that snowy evening

Snow falling light and thick and beautiful
covering the layer of ice
bitterly cold but not windy
magical blue white dusk
I know why he stopped by the woods
the hypnotism of watching woods fill up with snow
I know

To shop or to hibernate

That is the question. 

"Guess where I'm NOT going to be on Black Friday?" I asked several people earlier this week.

The answer, in case you were wondering, is RetailEstablishement.  I think I spent the last 6 Black Fridays working there.  This year, I am free.  I don't care what kind of deals they have.  Unless every book is a dollar, I will not be there, especially not at some ridiculous hour of the morning.

Any store that opens stuper (super + stupid) early should not be rewarded for punishing its employees.  This is my theory.

I was planning a total hibernation day, but I discovered yesterday that I am very close to a Half-Price Books I haven't ever raided, and it's calling to me like a siren.  Their sale lasts until 10.  Before that, my resolve to avoid driving wavered when the local comic shop offered an extra discount and a charity donation event at the same time.  They have lots of drool-worthy out of print stuff.  I should avoid spending money on anything but paying down debt right now, but I do have a list of books I can't find anywhere else (even online) . . .

I really don't want to be on the road with these crazy Black Friday Warriors, but . . .

Are you planning any Black Friday outings?  Completed any?  Was it worth it?

Why I like my physical therapist

The physical therapist looked back at the last two months of therapy and then said, apologetically, "If it were anyone else, after two months of therapy, most people would be at close to 100%.  But, since you're you, I'd give it another 8 months or so."

I looked at him mournfully and said, "You're supposed to say, 'Since you're special', not 'since you're you.'"

He laughed.  He's a good audience, as I have mentioned before.  It's not that he's unsympathetic; it's just that he's limped down this long road before.  Last time, he eventually gave up, but I kept doing his exercises, and, after 3 times the amount of time it would take for a normal human to be over a flareup of plantar fasciitis, I wasn't limping all the time.  From the PF, anyway.

There is something to be said about working with a therapist who knows how screwed up my body is right now: it's very nice.  "Your body just doesn't know how to fix itself right now," he said.  There is no frustration on his part with how slow my progress is even though I'm doing the ^*#&ing exercises.  (That means I don't have to sense his frustration and get more desperate or wonder if he believes me about doing the ^*#&ing exercises.)

Why I like my physical therapist:

• No false sympathy.  When I first started, he told me to do as many of this particular exercise as I could before the pain made me stop.  I think I did 4.  I asked him how many I should be able to do, and he said, "Normally, people can do 30 at a time.  2 sets of 30.  I can see why you have a problem tossing beanbags with that hip.  It's kind of pathetic."  Ahhhhh, refreshing.  I also can't lawn bowl, but at least I was smart enough not to try after the Bean Bag Incident.
• No false projections of how fast I should be able to do these things.  What he said after the first visit.  "I think you can get back to close to 100%.  It's going to take a long time, but you'll get better."  When I asked him his definition of a long time, he said without hesitating, "10 months."  What he said about the newest exercise: "2 sets of 20 is a goal.  That you should reach for."  ("Not that you should die for" was implied.)  I can sometimes do 30 of the first exercise; sometimes I can only do 12.  After 2 months.  Seriously.
• Real concern.  Since he knows this is my life, sees how exhausted I am, and has heard what I'm up against, he does what he can.  Last time, he tried to understand the neurological chronic pain thing because he wanted so much for there to be something that could be done.  (He may also have just agreed that I am a menace behind the wheel when I haven't had any sleep and hoped there was an alternative.)
• Not worrying about depression.  It's nice to have one health care professional (or just one adult, really) in my life who isn't waiting for me to get depressed.  Or maybe worried about me getting depressed would be a better way to phrase it.  I mean, not that I blame the others; there are plenty of reasons for me to get depressed.  I just don't have time.  My PT is a man who understands pain and gallows humor and doesn't get all Concerned. 
• I can almost always make him laugh.  The power.  I really need to not do that when he's twisting me into pretzel shapes to get my hips back into alignment.  He could break me one of these times, and I'd feel bad if I made him do that . . .

"You're kind of a mess," he said.  "When some things are too tight, some are too loose, some are too strong, and others are too weak, it's just a big mess.  But we will sort everything out.  Eventually."

I believe him.

Things I could watch for hours from inside

• clouds
• snow falling
• ice forming on a lake
• a dog and master romping in the snow
• tree branches giving up their burdens of snow when they try to carry too much

Things that hurt

Not sleeping
Getting up
Getting dressed
Driving to work
Work
Writing
Typing
Washing my hands
Drying my hands
Turning pages
Holding anything
Wearing gloves
Driving home from work
Getting a glass of water
Drinking a glass of water
Getting undressed
Lying in bed
Not sleeping

When Wally is your cube neighbor

Two short ones about my dreadfully annoying cube-dweller next door.

He can't possibly be

looking forward to his vacation

as much as I am.

*

Enjoy this moment;

don't waste it wondering when

he'll come in today.

Yep.  You can find poetry anywhere.  :)

those goofy, cynical days

day of the dead and
election day the same day
did it make you laugh?