Hip hopping off subject

Well, I just got whacked on the back of the head, metaphorically speaking, by my partner who said something like, "What was that all about?" after reading my second posting. He's right, I have to admit, because it's way off topic and a bit unfocused. I could blame the drugs but that would be unfair, (it's a poor carpenter who blames his tools) and thanks to my surgery, I've got a load of them, tools that is. Since I can't bend my hip (actually, it's not my hip, I really haven't paid for it yet) to even near 90 degrees for fear of popping it out, I have a gadget that extends my reach for at least 3 feet. It's a grabbing claw thing that I could get really addicted to. I've also got a sponge on a stick for cleaning in the shower. No excuse to shower, damn. A shoehorn thing that looks like a small rain gutter with a handle. Got a very clever sock installer that helps you slip your socks on your feet without bending or twisting at the waist. It looks like something Native Americans used to funnel fish in their nets, what with a shovel like scoop and a long rope for dragging.

I love gadgets.

Oh, and I love Vicodin. Please don't take this as my endorsement for using addictive drugs for fun and fashion. I only take them at night to get me to a place that either I feel no pain or I just don't care about the pain. For me, it's different each night. Previously, it was about sleep and rest but last night it was different. Perhaps I'm developing new mental pathways to utilize the drug more effectively, sort of evolving with my environment, the new pharmaceutical environment of the 21st century. Maybe I was just highly receptive to the drug's ability to activate different portions of my brain. Whatever it was, I don't think I slept much at all last night. I believe I was in a sort of semi-conscious dream state. I was strangely aware of the traffic noise and my hip pain, (reality) and was imagining things happening with my blog, surgery, house remodel (more on that later) but also aware that I was asleep, all at the same time. It was almost like being able to use multiple parts of my brain simultaneously. Now, those who know me well enough are well aware of my tenuous abilities over just a tiny part of my brain and I can hear them in concert saying that it must have been all a dream. But that's the wonder and magic of addictive drugs, it gives you the feeling that you are greater than you really are. Who doesn't need that, at least sometimes? More on the remodel later. I'm starting to feel the vicodin wear off. Where is that damn bottle?