The Ranting of the Truly Exhausted

Okay. I'm tired. My body is engaged in a full-scale rebellion. My house is falling apart. My bank account is a disaster area. I have a knot the size of Ft. Lauderdale wedged under my right scapula, the unrelieved depository for stress, that makes me look like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Did I mention that I'm tired? So you'll excuse me if this post is less than politically correct. I don't have diplomacy in me these days... and frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. If you're offended by body fluids, vulgarity, or self-pity, don't read any further.

Let me start by stating that this has been an extremely difficult year for my butt. Last winter, while putting a log on the fire before bed, the wood popped and a spray of sparks and one small piece of burning wood landed on my left cheek. The resulting burn made sitting, walking, laying down, and being clothed (like for 9 hours of work and 90 minutes of commute time) excruciating. Not to mention the lovely scar it left on my otherwise pristine ass. Now, in almost the exact same place, I have what appears to be a staph infection, probably the result of an insect bite that I never noticed until it turned into a gaping, bloody maw on my nether region. Not only is it horribly painful, it's ugly as all hell. Good thing for me no one is going to see me unclothed any time soon, oh ha ha ha. Let's don't forget that I will have to visit the doctor about this little treasure on my backside, and I'm finding it difficult to get excited about finding time for that in an already frenetic schedule. But consider the alternative!!!

As if that wasn't enough, my wonderful, exquisitely female, and often celebrated menstrual cycle has firmly established itself at 15 days. Yes, you saw that right - 15 days. A few months ago, I thought a 21-day cycle was a pain. About a year before that I thought a 24-day cycle was a pain. Now I'd give the rest of my left breast to have the freakin' 21-day cycle back. What does this mean? Yet another visit to the clinic, Hallelujah!! It'd be nice if I could take care of both problems in one visit, but since appointments are scheduled 2.5 minutes apart (this is not an exaggeration), I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to prioritize and get the suppurating hole in my ass taken care of first. Then I'll be able to worry about being either the most fertile or the most f**ked up woman on the planet.

Too much information, you say? What is the point of this post, you wonder? Please refer back to the title. Hell, refer back to the beginning. Falling apart starts slowly... it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that this is only the start.