damn shoulder

If it ain’t fucking one, it’s the fucking other.

I did something last night. No idea what, but my shoulder still feels about half out of the socket. I tried moving it around, I have much more range of motion now, but I’m still very sore in ways that mean it’s back to fucking rehabbing it.

Prolly shouldn’t have moved that 50# bag of plaster either, but I forgot, since it hadn’t been hurting too much. That and I’m stubborn enough to not want people to do things for me. Even Kelly (my sculpture instructor) was prolly a bit exasperated. I told her everyone feels that way around me. She laughed enough to sneak around her with the plaster to cast my mold.

Before you get all yelly at me, Otto… remember that it *was* feeling better. thbpth!

I don’t really think there’s anything the doc can do. If by friday it’s still not better, I’ll call to make a stop in either fri or sat.

So tonite at sunset is the “Ross is gonna play mommy” drinkfest. Course, I won’t be drinking… but I’m sure enough people will be to make up for my lack of $5 drinks. (well, not really… everyone else drinks beer. pussies.)

I’m bored. Not gonna bother working on my dress because Otto is heading home and we’re leaving, so it’d be largely useless to. So, on that thought, I guess i’ll go pee and make sure I’m not completely covered in plaster.

…and find my chapstick. Definitely need me some freekin chapstick.

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