(no subject)

My hands and back are in revolt.  They have presented me with a list of their demands, but it was unfortunately illegible.  They're trying to disconcert me with buzzing not-quite-pain at the bottoms of my shoulder blades, but I will stand strong against their unreasonability.

I kind of want a bath pillow.  I do not, however, want this.  I would never not hear Pink Floyd, and sometimes I do want other music.

I also kind of want some sort of tray for the bath, but that might be edging into the ridiculous.  "Could I also get room service?"  But it would be perfect for putting things on.

At some point, I really must figure out where on earth the litter box could even go, once I cram Josh into an allergist's office.

I currently have a covet-on for this, for my Star Trek books.

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