One Train May Hide Another
“ Your work is puerile and under-dramatized. You lack any sense of structure, character, and the Aristotelian unities.” — Wednesday Addams Soaking in the bath, Bjork serenading me courtesy of the Bezos HiFi Streaming Service. Jenny is on the couch, grumpy. If I had to guess, and I do have to guess, she is mad I haven't packed a single box in two days. She packed a box yesterday and one today. I woke up yesterday in excruciating pain. The injury I got from that fall in the bathtub I suffered some weeks ago when someone had not rinsed the bathtub after an Epsom salt soak, reawakened after I stacked box after box on Sunday. I wasn't expecting that. But it hurts like someone dropped an anvil on my back, just adjacent to my left shoulder blade. The anvil must have bounced because my shoulder hurts too, and when I'm a really lucky fella, the pain radiates down my arm. I slept sitting up on the sectional last night, a gazillion pillo...