This Heat Makes Me Grumpy

I get grumpy. Ask Sassy. I'm already an old man in some ways, and getting grumpy is one of them. I wish I felt bad about it, because then I'd be compelled to want to improve. But I don't feel bad about it. I know I get grumpy. It isn't personal. 

I've started driving again here recently, and the whole lack of air conditioning in my car makes me grumpy -- and sick feeling, but that's less funny to discuss. Sassy is worried about it. All that. So let's stay focused on me being grumpy, which is funnier.

I drove to my physical therapy yesterday. I walked in very sweaty, a bit weak looking. My physical therapist has a fever blister on her mouth -- I couldn't stop staring, even though I tried very diplomatically to look at anything else, including the slow guy working the UBS machine. But then I felt bad looking at him, so her fever blister was just stuck with my eyes on it, that's it. 

I was grumpy when I got there. So she made me do the exercises first. Sometimes it's the exercises, other times I go straight into the room and start the electro-stem and ultrasound bullshit. I call it bullshit, because I'm stiff and sore still, but I'm sure all of this magical nonsense helps. But I was exercising first, while already sweaty and near to passing out, and Ms. Fever Blister kept coming by to check on me, or basically to rub it in that I'm weak and can't stop staring at her fever blister when I'm grumpy and giving monosyllabic responses. 

All that being said, when I did go back into the room, I promptly fell asleep, and God only knows what happened then. It had something to do with my back and neck, I'll tell you that much. When I got up off the table, I had the paper creases all over my face -- you know that thin, crinkly paper on all medical tables? That shit. Creases from it, all over my face.

And then I had to drive home in the heat, which made me grumpier than I already was -- Sassy probably has an application for sainthood at the Vatican somewhere, and she has my vote.

So. There.