You have to perch in a crouched position like a bird on something unlikely.
I think this might be a new trend at Sunnydale.
F'rinstance, I could Owl on the person who went after Kari with silverware the other day. You do not go after my colleagues with sharp things; how many times do I have to tell you this?
Number of people who have tried to stab, punch, kick, or bite Jo or her colleagues: 11.
Number who have succeeded: 1.
That leaves ten who have failed. You are not the exception.
So, yeah. Owling. It doesn't look as though it's particularly physically challenging, and I wouldn't have to lie on my stomach. I could, you know, crouch on the staircase leading to the roof access just above the 9th floor stairwell. Or Owl on the unit secretary, provided she's in a good mood and not hung over. Or Owl on an empty bed. Or, hell, a full bed, provided the person in the bed isn't noticing much.
Propofol + Jo = Owling Deluxe.
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In other news, Friend Penny tells me that *everything* weighs more than five pounds and *everything* is below waist height. I am not allowed to lift anything heavier than the first or lower than the second. Even so, I have scooped Notamus up from the floor (12 lbs) (lower than my waist) and snuggled him, and the only side-effect I have had is a buzzing kitty on my shoulder. Still, I won't be moving heavy boxes full of Stuff any time soon. It's truly astounding what you can feel from just three small puncture marks.
The one in the depths of my belly button itches terribly. The one to the right of my belly button, where they did all the actual pulling & tugging, does not--but there's an area about the size of a half-dollar, two inches down, that's about to drive me NUTS. And, of course, I move faster than light when the boys decide (either singly or together) that they need to hop up into my lap/belleh.
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I am waiting for my post-op pictures to show up on Facebook.
I hope I photograph, slackjawed and roll-eyed, well.