Don't look at me like I'm frikkin Frankenstein

Well, I was clearly in denial about my neck recovery yesterday.
Yes, it was hurting less. Yes, I had more mobility. Yes, it was improved.

But it was all just suckering me in, softening me up so it could deliver the death blow.

I woke up this morning with my neck worse than it was when it first went out.
I can't walk without emitting little mews of pain.
I can barely move my neck.
I started crying when I went to sit up.

I called and cancelled my audition for this afternoon.
Frankenstein's take on Shakespeare they don't need to see.
Although I could've maybe sung "Puttin on the Ritz". Heh.

I've taken some ibuprofen and we'll see if that takes the edge off.
I might try a bath.

But if this hasn't eased up in an hour, I'm taking some of Moneygod's muscle relaxants and damn the torpedoes.
I'll just drool the day away and strive to achieve unconciousness.

I'll likely be missing the Safari Party tonite. Poopy. I wanted to see what Cleo had wrought.

Note: The only reason I can type this is because I know touch typing, so I don't have to move my neck to look down and touch the keys.