I Blame Bo.

Everything hurts. ┬áMy legs, my back, my arms. I am moving, but gingerly. When I want to put socks on, I have to think about how I’m going to get my feet up to my hands or my hands down to my feet. As I’m getting in and out of the car, I have to think about supporting myself, so I don’t collapse mid-sit. I’m not broken. I’m just in pain, and it’s all Bo’s fault. Continue reading