I would like to tell you about the budget Brad Pitt lookalike we ran into the other day (oo… he thought he was HAWT), or about the very obnoxious woman who was the complete and total embodiment of a clucky hen and whose obnoxious conversation was so loud I couldn't hear the thoughts inside my own head.
I would like to tell you about my impending travel plans (going out west for the weekend for a wedding, whee!), or about many other random things such as the virtues of using a French press over using a regular drip brew for instance (richer flavor, pleasant grounds sensation on tongue).
But I can't. I cannot because I can barely concentrate on typing and well, okay, watching "Bones".
But there is also the sciatica shooting up and down my left leg, making things ever so geriatrically difficult. I will never again roll my eyes and chuckle when people mention sciatica. I never, ever will.
Anyway, now you know. And, oh yeah– ow.