OK, time to take a moment from my computer angst and give you an update on work.
I'm writing medical stuff for medical people and that's all I'm going to confess to without that free trip to Cuba. Right now I'm working on asthma medication and reading about mucus and alveoli, inflammation and hacking up bits of lung. I'm all up in that respiratory thing.
The writing is fine, so far, but I have one complaint.
I can't fucking breathe.
This is like taking Psych 101 in college, the class where you discovered you really were mentally ill, psychotic in fact, and just one small step away from baby-eating and voting Republican.
My chest hurts. My trachea burns. I can't catch my breath. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was on the pipe. But no, it's all in my head, up there with the closets full of insecurity, creaky stairs, and Rickards' clowns.
Jesus, I hope they don't assign me to any erectile dysfunction drugs.
I can live without breathing.