"Have we left ourselves in our purse?"

I had the virtuous intent of throwing together some beef stew in the crockpot, in the interest of nice hot food with no work involved when we get home. This I did, in fact, though I ran so late I didn't have time to brush my hair, let alone eat breakfast...

Then, sitting in the office, I had one of those lightning-flashes of utter clarity: the vision of me forgetting to plug in the crock-pot. Sigh.

(Stiff, sore, gut still hurting. To class or not to class? I think I should, in spite of the shame on me for my body's failures.)

Ow.

Not going. I dropped to the floor (gently, like being brought to the mat by an arm lock) and it felt like someone was making the first swashing blow of a C-section on me.

Just as well; I didn't get in early today and I'm going to leave early, so a 1.5 hour lunch would probably be wrong.

The return of Bruise Girl

Doctor Nick has diagnosed me as having a pulled (possibly slightly torn) groin muscle. I'm not allowed to go out and play until it feels better, hopefully in a week or thereabouts.

Poot. Waah. And other childish noises of vexation.