All I Need is Grace Kelly and a Camera

Woke up at about three o’clock in the morning feeling like someone had punched a hole through the muscle of my right leg. It wasn’t a cramp, it wasn’t a muscle pull . . . it was a hot, granular pain would not subside, no matter what I did. Any weight on the leg at all and I was hurting.

I finally dragged myself out of bed and hobbled into the kitchen to get something to take the edge off of the pain. I hit the lightswitch and the bulb blew out.

So that’s me last night: Stumbling around in the kitchen, in the dark, whimpering, desperate for relief. At that point, I would have preferred whiskey but I settled for ibuprofen which, finally, allowed me to get back to sleep.

Fortunately, Lars Thorwald did not put in an appearance.

Hours later, the damn thing still hurts and I’ve been favoring the leg so much today that now my other leg is starting to complain.

Still have no idea where it came from, it’s not like I was kickboxing or anything. Maybe the gods are punishing me for downloading all those Princess Superstar songs from iTunes — although that seems like an overreaction to slutpop, if you ask me.

Time to limp home now…