You have to perch in a crouched position like a bird on something unlikely.
I think this might be a new trend at Sunnydale.
F'rinstance, I could Owl on the person who went after Kari with silverware the other day. You do not go after my colleagues with sharp things; how many times do I have to tell you this?
Number of people who have tried to stab, punch, kick, or bite Jo or her colleagues: 11.
Number who have succeeded: 1.
That leaves ten who have failed. You are not the exception.
*beat* *beat*
So, yeah. Owling. It doesn't look as though it's particularly physically challenging, and I wouldn't have to lie on my stomach. I could, you know, crouch on the staircase leading to the roof access just above the 9th floor stairwell. Or Owl on the unit secretary, provided she's in a good mood and not hung over. Or Owl on an empty bed. Or, hell, a full bed, provided the person in the bed isn't noticing much.
Propofol + Jo = Owling Deluxe.
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In other news, Friend Penny tells me that *everything* weighs more than five pounds and *everything* is below waist height. I am not allowed to lift anything heavier than the first or lower than the second. Even so, I have scooped Notamus up from the floor (12 lbs) (lower than my waist) and snuggled him, and the only side-effect I have had is a buzzing kitty on my shoulder. Still, I won't be moving heavy boxes full of Stuff any time soon. It's truly astounding what you can feel from just three small puncture marks.
The one in the depths of my belly button itches terribly. The one to the right of my belly button, where they did all the actual pulling & tugging, does not--but there's an area about the size of a half-dollar, two inches down, that's about to drive me NUTS. And, of course, I move faster than light when the boys decide (either singly or together) that they need to hop up into my lap/belleh.
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I am waiting for my post-op pictures to show up on Facebook.
I hope I photograph, slackjawed and roll-eyed, well.
Here’s hoping you feel better sooner. I love kitties sleeping on my upturned hip at night until she puts all her weight on my trochanter and I come awake right quick !~!
ReplyDeleteWhen I was on crutches for six weeks and not allowed to put any weight on my left leg, I lived in FEAR of getting out of bed and putting weight down on it before being awake enough to remember the damn cast, stitches, rod in the bone, et al.
ReplyDeleteIn the overall realm of, "OhshitIforgot," I'd rather get yammered at for spacing out and moving a 10 pound bag of dog food off the kitchen counter than destroying weeks of pain and inconvenience with one step. Still, seriously: one never realizes just HOW MANY FREAKING THINGS are at floor level and/or weigh more than five pounds until such things are verboten. Very annoying.
The word verification for this post is "roped". Appropriate.
And then there is this...
ReplyDeleteFrom Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Owling was a common term for the smuggling of sheep or wool from England to another country, particularly France. The practice was illegal in England from 1367 until 1824. Participants were called "owlers"; their ships "owling boats."
You smuggler, you!
Five C-sections -- yes, it's amazing how much a kid or cat is drawn right to the one place they shouldn't be. Like they have radar or something.
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