It's almost midnight, and I'm feeling kinda wide awake. I know that if I would just lay down my head, I'd pass right out, but I'm quite unmotivated to get off my ass, lay down and turn off the lights.
So, you may ask, how are the shingles today?
Well, my head bumps are smaller. No ooze. My ear is itching, but only if I do something to bug it, like swipe my hair behind it. I'm less achy, too. So really, if I can be so bold as to proclaim it, I think I'm feeling better. Still, every time I get a random itch somewhere I hop up to check that place out in the mirror to be sure that it's not getting red or beginning to bump. Now, I'm paranoid. Will I ever be able to have a simple itch again? Not likely. Of course, I'm relentlessly keeping up with my Valtrex, as now, I think it's really working. I'm afraid that if I miss one I'll regress all the way back to the beginning and I'll have to start this all over again. So I've been keeping track on the calendar. I took another Vicodin tonight, too. I think that might be the cause behind my odd active-but-tired-and-chatty feeling right now.
And I love, love, love that Brad Pitt's Rusty Ryan and George Clooney's Danny Ocean, in Ocean's Thirteen, are drinking Stella Artois. That's such a good beer. We've got some in the fridge for emergencies.