So I'm going to get another two shots. Yep, in my back . . . or, rather, through my neck into my back. On Friday. Yep, that means three days (starting today) of no-aspirin-, no-acetominophen-, no-happy-happy-vicodin-Hell.

But that's the way the needle jabs.

Okay, so that's not as good of a metaphor as crumbling cookies (which are still tasty, even in crumb form; see Hearting Life for details.)

Have I said how much I am not a fan of pain? Let me reiterate, for those in the peanut gallery. Pain, and me, like enemies we are. So it is with some reluctance I undertake the next three days, in the hopes that the shots will work this time. Mostly because I don't like surgery more than I don't like pain. Also, the back-needle place is near an IHoP.

I do love them pancakes.