Friday, January 06, 2012

Being heavily medicated helps deal with nasty surprises in life

Unaccustomed as I am to regular exercise (1) I find the whole process mostly unpleasant. Sometimes not unpleasant ... but for the most part ... it's not fun.

My misshapen bones and connecting muscle tend to report low-grade ouch signals fairly constantly. Twinned with dodgy guts this means Mikey is in pain most of the time. Oh the intensity varies, but generally background pain is a 1 or a 2 on the pain scale

So forcing said bones and muscle to do things to which I as a lazy pain-afflicted man do not want to do means they tend to hurt more when I do so.

When I ride The Purgatory Cart (2) then chances are I will medicate before I do so in order I dial back the pain now to compensate for the pain climb that will occur within a couple of minutes after starting.

But that, alas, is not enough. I need to take my mind of it as well. Solution? Watching or listening to kewl stuff via the dodgy old laptop that is on permanent station atop a box atop a massive retired CRT TV within our unapproved shed.  

My choice of audio-visual stimulant varies. Not having had to drive to work, and thus missing hearing his dulcet tones, then lately it's been Marc Maron podcasts. Today, with The Daily Show lads back on air, it was The Daily Show

So this, combined with the meds, means I can by and large ignore the discomfort of exercise with the panting and the sweating and the aching; glavin (3). I tend to also enter a zone out-head space as I concentrate on what I am watching or listening to.

Today it must have been a while before I noticed the spider gently rocking up and down on my pumping pyjama-clad thigh. Being zoned out from a combo of super meds and perhaps my greatest hero in the world (4), Jon Stewart, I didn't panic or freak out. I assessed the situation and mind-mapped possible responses, Sherlock-Holmes-style (Arachnid. Eight legs. Pull one leg off, use it to repel mandibles. Kick once in the thorax then, when stunned, épée-thrust the leg deep into brain-case through roof of mouth). 

But simplicity is best. I swatted it, a palm death drop from above, and, as its legs curled I brushed it off, the spider dropping to the shed floor only to somewhat bizarrely land upright. It looked like it was simply sitting on its legs instead of being D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D ... from life.

It was only then I took in the fact its body markings probably meant it was a fucking redback.

I shudder to think what theWife would have done. Once when a spider appeared she abandoned a car in traffic...

As I left the shed I was wearing just my pyjama pants, my favourite ones in fact, and the headband theWife bought me the other day. I felt like one of the lads from 40-year-old virgin...

UPDATE: A taste discovery—brie wrapped in raw pastry. Good lord. 

(1) Actually, that's a lie. Baring two weeks off for a hip operation I have performed some form of dedicated exercise each day since around mid-June 2008.Almost all of it through the power of walking ... only to successfully walk my way to having a hip operation. Sic vita est.
(2) The Purgatory Cart! The Purgatory Cart! Owned by Casso, it makes you fart!
(3) Freaky coincidence time. Footnote 2 is sung to the tune of Professor Frink, Professor Frink, makes you laugh, makes you think...
(4) Cass pointed out in comments there was no footnote 4. I don't in truth know what footnote 4 was intended for. Maybe a panegyric about Jon Stewart? Perhaps. He does deserve one. 


  1. Time to surface spray the shed, my friend.

    Also, there is no footnote 4...

  2. The lights stopped working and I'd been worried to turn them on. Turns out the light fixture ... had an ants' nest in it. theWife sprayed them ... and lo, there was light!

    I am not too good at vermin control.

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