The Last Pill.

Yet another photo that is totally irrelevant. I'm waiting for my roommate to scan some of my negatives for me at the lab so I can post some more recent ones. Until then, it's the random scraps left over from stories I never told.

Now on to my monologue! I'm down to my final day's supply of Vicodin. EEK! The general pain from the pressure of the swelling has subsided to reveal the deeper, throbbing ache that goes all the way down the nerve and up behind my eyes. The empty rattling sound of the bottle in my pocket makes me nervous, but I still have a ready supply of Ibuprofun handy to mop things up. I'm not really worried. Besides, I get to go back to the clinic tomorrow for a follow up, and I'll see that cute nurse again. Just kidding. I've been informed by my niece, Victoria, that I have to 'be careful what you put in there about girls! I read this you know. (and so does your mother!)' Don't worry Victoria, gentlemen NEVER kiss and tell. Especially not to their 12 year old nieces. And if they're smart, they won't tell their mothers either.

Memory
One had a lovely face,
And two or three had charm,
But charm and face were in vain
Because the mountain grass
Cannot but keep the form
Where the mountain hare has lain.
-W.B. Yeats