Loose interpretation

Well, I was right to warn you to interpret 'tomorrow' loosely, wasn't I? Just pretend you don't see the date on the top of this post, and it'll all run smoothely from there.

Now, for the next exciting installment. Prepare yourself, for it's a thrilling ride this time. There's implements of torture and everything.

The day was the usual hum-drum feed the dog, walk the dog, brush the dog, pick up dog poo, clean the house, look for jobs, kind of affair that it always is... With one exception. Cue scary Jaws music, for, it was time to go to the doctor! Yes, that's right folks, Carly was voluntarily walking to a slow painful death by flu jab. I hate them, I really do, and they make me cringe even more, now that I know the damage they do.

It actually wasn't a doctor, but a nurse doing the pricking. Stop sniggering; she was female! So, i sat there, perfectly still, even managing to contain the screams of deepest agony which wanted to burst from my obediently compressed lips, and imagined what that injection was doing to me. They inject the fluid directly into the deltoid muscle; the chief instigator in you lifting your arm away from your side. When something's pushed into a muscle, you get micro tears. As fluid is definitely a something, and a quite large something at that, I grimaced as I thought of the thousands of tiny little scars i'd get as a result, and how they would impair the muscle's ability to function. I was therefore unsurprised when she warned that my arm was likely to feel a bit tender for a week or so. Yes, i'm a physio; I know the damage you've just willingly and knowingly done to my muscle! And i don't like it!

Didn't do much in the evening, apart from eat gorgeous pasta in a mushroom and wine sauce. Well, it was supposed to be gorgeous, but i forgot about the sauce, so it was far too thick and gloopy. I then roleplayed until the crack of dawn, but I blame Andy's radio show for that. It was good last night.

I woke up this morning with a throbbing left arm, a sore back, and a myriad of other tiny aches. I dragged myself out of bed long enough to feed the dog, fully intending to get straight back in, when I remembered I was having dog food delivered. I was afraid of missing the courier, so sat up instead. I did make one concession to my poorly state though; I stayed in jammies. Well, might as well give the man a show when he comes to the door! I've felt really sick all day, but again, i'm not surprised. For about three days after the jab, I feel really pants, and not myself at all. I felt so ill this morning that I had to force myself to eat breakfast. I had some good company on MSN to distract me though, and managed to get through the rest of the day. Did the courier come? But of course he did! Not. So now I have one hungry dog, and only enough food for one more day. He'd better come soon or else my life might be in danger... Or my bones will be, at least.

Time for a newsflash. You know the potato peeler I was going on about the other day? That nice, snazzy electric one that makes peeling spuds as easy as shelling peas? Well, I decided to try it out with that shepherd's pie i've been threatening to make. Oh, it worked so well! It vibrated so much that I couldn't feel where skin ended and tender tatie flesh began. My hands aren't the largest in the world, so I already find it difficult to hold potatoes and use the fingers on that hand to find the skin. With this vibrating monster in my hand *the potato peeler, you dirty minded reader!* I could hardly even keep my grip on the potato! So I reluctantly threw it across the room and reverted to terribly old fashioned physical effort to peel them instead. And you know what? It worked! So i'm writing this with a bellly full of a very good pie.

I think i'm gonna go up and broadcast with my mate on his show at some point next week. We have this ongoing joke of husband and wife, so we're planning to do a Richard and Judy style broadcast. Or is that Punch and Judy? Andy, don't get any ideas into your head, for in this show, Judy beats Punch! I'll let you know dates so that my rabid fan base may choon in and listen. Yes, I did write 'choon'. The kids tell me it's the new, hip, way of spelling it, and I do so wish to keep up with these new fads. Don't you? Until next time, let me leave you with this little pearl of wisdom.

A woman who thinks she is equal to a man...
Is lacking ambition!

Thank you, Mae West.