So I finished the blog entry on my Dad and his heart this morning, and I leaned back in my office chair. I guess I must have, somehow, entered unknowingly into a wager saying the day couldn't be worse. Thus, my office chair decided it no longer liked me, so it leaned all the way back, depositing me in a rather undignified manner onto the floor behind it.

Now I will say I try not to indulge myself in unnecessary expletives, but I have to admit this was not one of the times of admirable restraint. After my head hit the hardwood -- did I tell you I've got gorgeous hardwood floors all through my home, except in my office, where they're slate -- floor, and my back flexed against the chair back, much of my restraint had been used up. Thankfully, this happened at my piano, and not in my office!

I'm not sure how long I sat in such a ridiculous manner, but as it quickly became apparent that my outraged scream had not, in fact, notified the neighbors of a wampa being eaten by a rancor next door, and no one was on their way to help extricate me from my peril, I decided the only thing to do, was to remove myself from the crazy situation I found myself in. Provided everything still worked, that is.

Everything did work, although I wasn't certain it was still within manufacturers' specs. Every movement of my vertebrae was uncharacteristically accompanied by a strange grinding feeling and an even more disturbing sepulchral moaning.

The ER people say everything is fine, though we seem to disagree on the basic idea of what "fine" is. Apparently, their idea is that I'm not going to die within 30 seconds. I tried to point out that the difference between 30 and 31 wasn't enough to completely change the diagnosis from "at deaths door" to "fine", but they wouldn't hear it.

Anyway... I'm gonna see if I can fall asleep with the constant sepulchral moaning still resonating throughout the county.

Wish I could figure out where that's coming from....

So how was your day?