#546 Criminals with Gall

In the stupid criminals catagory: The owners of a stolen laptop have found a way to catch the thieves using eBay. Check out this eBay listing (it will be available for three months, unless eBay takes it down sooner, which is possible, it's getting a lot of publicity, and it does break the rules, so look quick). Scroll past the boilerplate to get to the meat, and then further to the emails.

I got up early this morning, planning to go to the spa before heading to NJ, but I've got a serious ache in my right calf, toward the outside front, just above where the nerves are dead. One of the problems with fibromyalgia is that when you have pain somewhere, you don't know for sure whether it's the usual for-no-reason pain, or whether you've injured something. I'm afraid that one of these days I'll drop dead of a ruptured internal something-or-other, and my last thought will be "Gee, this is getting harder and harder to ignore...." (You'll recall that I went to the ER with the exploding gall bladder not because of the pain, but because I was vomiting blood. My cousin Ray/Skippy had a gall bladder problem a few months after mine, and he was able to ignore the pain too long, and it damaged his pancreas, and he died. That's why I was so worried about Roman's mother - she tends to ignore inconvenient pain, too. But she's home now and doing well, so that's over, I guess.)

Therefore, in the interests of safety, and a little bit of lazy "any excuse is a good one", I skipped the spa today.

I'm heading for NJ to visit Daughter this afternoon, returning Sunday. Saturday night we're going to Stomp, at the Orpheum. I thought our seats were in the balcony - they were slightly more expensive, but I figured that with Daughter and I both being so short, if people stood up at all, with the balcony seats on a slope, we'd be still be able to see. But the tickets have arrived, and they're in the orchestra. My memory is confused. But at least they're on the aisle.

Now, pardon me while sell the next lot of Exxon, ignore the clench in my stomach while I do it, and then go pack. (I don't know why I always plan the timing of these trips so that I'm driving through the metro areas at rush hour. Mutter, mutter.)