So I suppose there's a chance that the next time you hear from me, I'll be dead.

Anyone, of course, can say that at any time. Nothing in life is guaranteed, not even life itself. Especially not life itself.

I have managed to royally fuck something up. Physically I mean. Something is not only not right, it's downright wrong.

But I don't know what it is. Maybe it's, as I thought this morning, just a pulled muscle in my back. Maybe I slept weird or something. But if that's all it is, well then it's the worst such case of soreness I've ever felt.

Now don't freak out (especially if you're one of my sisters) but today I fell to the floor in pain. Fucking twice. That brings the number of times I've done that in my life to two.

In other words, it fucking hurts.

In more words, a fucking lot.

Specifically, the pain is about halfway down the left side of my back. It hurts like a motherfucker right now, even as I sit here typing this sentence. Ouch.

So I can't help but wonder if maybe it's not just a pulled muscle caused by sleeping weird. I can't help but wonder if it's something worse. Maybe something that will kill me tonight after I (hopefully) drift off to an aspirin-induced slumber. Aspirin and Rogue Smoke (658), I mean.

Earlier tonight, I took a long hot bath. Even though I was at least a little bit afraid and/or certain that I wouldn't be able to get out of the tub when I was finished, it seemed to be worth the risk. The hot water did seem to help, for a while at least.

And it's not like I didn't take any precautions.

I made sure that the phone numbers for my friend Eric and my cousin Jeff were on speed-dial, and that my phone was right next to the tub. So if I couldn't get out of the tub I could call one of them for assistance. Because while I'm sure that my sisters love me and that they would drag my naked carcass out of the tub if necessary, that activity probably wasn't on their wish-list when they started their day.

But the hot water did make me feel a little better, and I did make it out of the tub my myself. I'm fucking Superman, apparently. Wait, that doesn't read right. I am most certainly not fucking Superman. How about I am Superman, apparently. Yeah, that's better.

(SCRIBBLERESQUE PARENTHETICAL ASIDE: I wonder if Supergirl's hymen is as indestructible as the rest of her. That would suck for her, and for any of her boyfriends. Better, I think, would be if she were like that chick on Heroes, where her hymen would just automagically repair itself whenever the need arose.)

Anyway, I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe it's just another sign of old age. All I know for sure is that it fucking hurts to be me right now.