I went to the occupational therapist again for a follow-up appointment. No more lawn mowing sprees for me. It's not just clutching the safety bar that's bad for me, but the vibrations as well. She suggested some gel-padded gloves for when I can resume. And no putting weight directly on my elbow, which is exactly what I do in one of my favorite sexual positions. Dammit. Will have to make adjustments or use the strap-on a lot more.

And my tonsils flared up yesterday, so I had to stop in at that doc's to let them have a look before they would let me have any drugs. Turns out I have a mood throat.

Doc's assistant: Open up and let me see.
Badsnake: *opens 'er up*
Doc's asst: You're very angry.

Ummm. Okay. Wonder what I'm so pissed off about.

So even though the strep culture came back negative they let me have some antibiotics so that this will go away. I've tried letting it go away by itself before, and that just doesn't work. I'm supposed to rest and drink lots of fluids.

Went down to the drugstore below the Dr.'s office and got my prescription filled.

How to tell you're in a drugstore in a gay neighborhood:

I estimate $3,500 worth of condoms just on the two sides you can see here. Bought myself a 40-count economy pack, and the friendly fag at the front counter said, "Oh, I think we have a coupon for those condoms," and went through one of their flyers to rip it out for me. What a good boy.

I'll be working on my Dear Denzel update this evening until Jake and Deb's date starts. My date with Sara is, obviously, postponed until the throat infection clears up.