Holy Crap, I hurt… like a ninety-year-old woman who just danced the groundhog day polka without her walker. Never again will I allow my sister to talk me into rollin’ around on a hard ass floor while Proud Mary keeps on turning. No I won’t, no I won’t. See, they may not be in pain today. They may be feeling fine. But everyone except for Kelly and I were either a) drinking  OR b) a young resilient child. Alcohol is as good as anesthesia and children are, of course, made out of rubber. I, however, am neither bouncy nor was I numb. I am just sore and cranky.