The back and hip are still hurting, though not as badly as earlier in the week. But what distresses me more is that I've gotten exactly no writing done for nearly a week.
But, with the level of pain when I sit and walk around still fairly high, I'll probably take it easy again today, lying on the couch with a book. I have to admit, I'm getting lots of reading done. I discovered a new suspense author (new to me), Michele Martinez (The Finishing School). I read a new-to-me suspense author whom I won't read again (Wendy Corsi Staub--good storyteller, but I don't like her female characters at all). I'm over halfway through the biography of Warren Zevon (I'm a Zevon fan, but boy, is the book ever depressing and sad!). I finished my first Nora Roberts, which I enjoyed (Northern Lights). I also remember finishing at least one other book, early in the week. I've done so much reading that I can't remember all the books.
When I'm in pain, sick, or grief-stricken, my favorite escape is to read. Reading makes my pains go far, far away, and always has. No matter what's bothering me, reading distracts me from my pains and sorrows. I have to admit, singing, as much as I love it, comes in second to reading for its ability to spirit me away, but it's a close second.
Which reminds me--I received my Hopewell CDs from Bobby Watkins in the mail. I'll probably listen to them later, and will post about them after I have.