Tipped. Tilted. At a slant. A bit cockeyed.
That’s me.
Me and my bastard of a buddy Vertigo.
I thought he was on his way out of my life but the bastard returned with full vengeance last night. Like a stinking thief, he snuck into my bedroom and tipped the bed, with me in it.
Damn you Vertigo!

I managed to skulk into work for a few hours to complete an evaluation, cancel some appointments, and in general, earn my financial living. And then managed to make it home without crashing my car, Buster Blue. Buster appreciated pulling into his home (the garage) on the return trip.

This attack is a bad one with centrifugal forces, waves of nausea and near black out moments.
Doing my best to keep the tide of hysteria at bay ~ even the mention of water and its potential for motion, makes me weep.

I wish upon a star and pray up to the heavens that this Vertigo bastard will be smitten or at the very least made to leave me and my general vicinity.
Being tilted ain’t what it’s cracked up to be.
Believe me. I know.

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