Residing in a body is very frustrating. Especially if this body malfunctions. Not serious malfunctions…but…little ones. Annoying ones. Like my right wrist.
It is full of so many clicks and pops that it’s getting a bit ridiculous. And it doesn’t hurt like it did last week, but I can feel that the tendons in my wrist and toward my index and ring finger are still tense or strained or something.
They gave me a steroid pack that was supposedly going to relieve the inflammation in the tendons and lessen all this damnable clicking and popping…but I think it has not worked. I’ve got two days of doses left though, so we’ll see.
(I will tell K and she will tell me it’s the salute that does it. And laugh. Rude.)
Been cursing myself for not trying harder to shake this bizarre fascination that got dredged up back in October. You would think four months should be adequate time enough for it to wear down, but no…I even thought this time that I would indulge it instead of resist like I usually do, and that would help it fizzle out faster…but no…
It’s almost worse for having been so indulged, since my wolfish side remains equally fascinated…our problem now is in not knowing what else to look at. Because, morbid as our other interests are, there are usually obvious indications of when one risks going too far. It’s harder with this one to see the fine lines marking where you begin to overstep.
Not that I have overstepped. I don’t think. Although…this tiny spark of myself that is hovering just outside mine and Wolf’s sphere of fascination is getting really worked up about us…
We are not worked up though: a testament to how greatly being Wolf has changed me in the last six years. Before, I would have let that little spark berate me into a cringing, paranoid mess.
Not that I’m not paranoid. I mean. So what? Nobody is inspecting the buttons and attachments on my vacation bag. And the music is alright, since almost never do I have any passengers (might be awkward when I do my top music list next winter, but I have time to think on whether or not to lie). These things are not ones to worry about.
I will write to K about it again though. She will think I am ridiculous (she’s right, of course), but she was interested to know about it when we last spoke, so maybe she will at least be able to reassure me that I am not overstepping.
We will see.
And now I must sleep.