Intense pain.

.

.

I tried to sleep through it.  I did, a bit.  Not well, not for long.  I could feel the deep, hard, throbbing aches even while asleep.  I finally surrendered, hobbled down the stairs, into the kitchen, and found my strongest painpills.  Almost surprised the glutton hadn't consumed them all.  Most of them, but there is a dose or four remaining.  I sure hope they help. 

I have been ginger with rolling in bed, careful to not extend, twist, or kick into the mattress.  I... sometimes sleep hard.  YOU fight with demons, djinn, and else in your dreams, you'll understand.  I don't even always win, or even survive.  But I get extra playtime for giving it more than is humanly possible.  I guess. 

As well, I have been keeping the foot (feet, actually) warm.  Tending both feet, even though only one, currently, is problematic.  But, the other was bad just recently.  It's bad having one foot become a swollen, painful, pain producing, aching clot I can barely stand on, must hobble on.  But two is... dreadful.

It looks like she is drinking even my carbonated water (which she said she hated).  Every God damned thing I can't lock away from her is up for her to use.  I am just counting the days until she is someone else's problem.  My guess is a nursing home.  They won't let her out, this time.  And, they may well medically retard her again if she continues her theft, drama, vitriolic hatred, and else there.

Though, I gave her a year, to regain health.  To escape the possibly deservedly hateful nursing home.  What she does with that is up to her, and her finances.  I am simply done with her.

Then to clear up, out, sell, and go.  By next spring, or the following spring.  No use trying to sell in the winter.  Even summer is a bit tight.  I'll have to finish a few things, sort a lot of things, make plans for where to go and how to get there.  Yeah, but my feet are itching to be on the road again.  Even if aching.

Philippines, to possibly find a wife.  Then Argentina to nestle down?  Or for a while.  To find a quiet, probably expat, area.  The young can play at becoming a local.  The old know better.  If you were outsourced from your nation of origin, you aren't going to become a compadre with people who jealousy hate you.  Let's not pretend.  They end up eating those types alive, almost literally.  Look at senator McConnell, as an even American example.  Even as a senator, with a Chinese handler no less.

Oh, it's no different with American women.  They just do it much more blatantly, with the courts' help.  There is a way.  But it is a slim way.  Stacking the deck, if keeping an exit strategy in tact and close to hand.  If you need a handler, you go that way.  Not my gig.  A boy, or whatnot, can dream.  Pinocchio?  If... I think I have received a soul.  It's just a matter of tending that to the best of my abilities.  Which... means no female handlers.  Or males, for that matter.

Bah!  Later.  Or good night.  The painpills are helping.  Cutting the edge anyway.