The physical discomfort makes it difficult for me to concentrate. My brain would prefer to be disembodied, no doubt. It hates distractions of every sort. Its ideal state would likely be to live in a jar. When my back starts acting up, I sometimes think jar life wouldn't be so bad. I'd undoubtedly miss being able to pet the cat, though.
Earlier, I heard a wind rising, but it only lasted a few minutes, ending even before I had a chance to get outdoors. This is the best time of year for a windstorm, as there is such an abundance of leaves for it to strew about and pile into great heaps against the fences. Equally enjoyable would be a wind to blow through my head, and stir some thoughts. I'm feeling curiously blank. It's that stupid beast from Alien.