Cat Handcuffs and Fibro Flares

So, today was the first time since I started blogging and setting up MySpace and Xanga pages over a month ago that I felt too crappy to get online at all. I decided to go analog and just use a legal pad and a pencil instead (it's a mechanical pencil - I'm not a total Luddite). I planned to enter it into my blog tomorrow, but I can't seem to sleep tonight, so I thought I'd give it a shot now.

I didn't even spend an inordinate amount of time online yesterday, or do any of the kinds of things that trigger my symptoms (cleaning, laundry, etc.) Sometimes the storm just hits with no warning or provocation, and I've come to terms with that. What does surprise me is how much I missed doing this, even for just a day. I guess I've become more attached to the internets (it's a series of tubes) than I had realized. Wow, Mark will find that hilarious, I'm sure.

As long as I take it easy with lots of breaks, I think that a project like this is good for my health issues. Since I can set my own pace, it's the perfect hobby for me, and it gives me a sense of accomplishment that I haven't had in a long time. Going for over a month without any really bad days (meaning days where I barely leave bed) is something that hasn't happened to me in several years. I think I have all of you to thank for that.

It's weird, however, that even though I can't usually pinpoint the cause of a flare or anticipate its arrival, my cats always know. Sometimes Annie will just sit across the room from me and stare at me with her head slightly cocked, waiting. Then, like clockwork, something starts to throb with pain (today it was my hips & my right arm). It's creepy! She's like that nursing home cat that predicts when the patients will die. Of course, she also entertains herself for hours by chasing her tail... Maybe she's a kitty savant.

The other one (Blackie) is much, much, much, much dumber, but even she knows when I'm feeling particularly punky. It's the only time she stops trying to push me out of my bed. She's quite good at it, actually - picture a 25 pound, self-propelling, furry medicine ball with pointy teeth. This Queen-of-the-Hill game is perpetuated by the fact that I spend the majority of my leisure time (when I'm not online, of course) lounging on the bed, for one very good reason: that's where our 56 in flatscreen is. But after being here for about 5 months, Blackie decided that she was annexing the bed, and that I had to follow her rules if I wanted to stay. Naturally I took umbrage to the Anschluss, and we've been at war ever since.

Blackie also has a habit of sneaking up (inasmuch as a 25 pound behemoth can sneak) and stealing my pencil while I'm writing with it. Not really on topic, I guess, but odd just the same. Someday I'm going to find a pile of slobbery mechanical pencils squirreled away somewhere - unless she's using them, or selling them at the flea market. Either way, I need a pair of cat handcuffs and I need them right now!