So where the heck am I? Off the computer. Not much choice, really; my left hand is preventing it. While my finger was swollen up, I couldn't move it, and therefore couldn't use it. Simple enough proposition there. Now that the swelling is going down, I'm regaining flexibility in the finger, but I'm quickly learning that just because I can use it doesn't mean that I should use it.

After more than a few minutes of typing, I can feel each keypress radiating down through the soft tissue of my finger. This is—in my world at least—a glaringly obvious sign that I should Do Something Besides Typing.

The list of What I've Done To Compensate includes…

So, anyway. Enough boring retellings of my day. What weirdnesses did you encounter on your little blue planet today?

Hey, quit giving me that weird look. No matter how tiresome this entry is, it's far, far better than my recounting the fact that when I was picking out produce at the supermarket today, the muzak got switched over to the 'disco' feed. Nothing like picking out oranges and romaine lettuce to the disco beat of "Never Knew Love Like This Before."It's not that I live on my own little otherwise-uninhabited planet, see? It's just that this particular planet's silliness makes me want to hole up and write deadpan little love sonnets to it.

Think about it—what's our planet contributed to the galaxy? If a group of bored interstellar travellers were roaming around the galaxy, trying to figure out what planet to visit next, what would they come here to see? Go ahead, ask me:

"So why would bored interstellar travellers bother to come to Earth?"

Gareth and I spent a bit of time talking this morning about more Quarto-related bits today.  He was ready to start work on my conversion script for my entries, and me…I was just ready to start.  In other words, no more pseudocode, no more planning, just dig in somewhere and start coding.

Well, after a thoroughly harrowing and frustrating day, I believe I am now prepared to offer some silly and thoroughly obvious conclusions about my day:

1. My finger is not broken.
2. Kitties on tranquilizers are funny.
3. I still hate eye exams.
4. Bifocal lenses are spendy.

So, let's skip all the boring stuff and go right to what you want to hear about. You know it, baby—more about the "I got up to get some ice cream and all I got was this jammed finger" story.

You know what's really bizarre? My left middle finger has swollen up enough so that it's actually larger around than my thumb. It's fascinating, in a bizarrely morbid sort of way. It's bruising around the joint a bit, and I have about 25% of normal range-of-motion. But you know what the weirdest thing of all is?

(Of course you don't; that's why you read domesticat. That, and because reading my words makes you feel so utterly normal.)

'armed with will and determination / and grace too' - tragically hip

Every one of you who started laughing at the thorough inappropriateness of that comment may now, quite simply, hush, because Ms. Domesticat has a whole bowlful of smack-fu for you. Well, that is, as long as the bowlful of smack-fu is applied with my right hand…See, here's [one of] my problem[s] with the world. Everybody else gets the good injuries. You know, the war stories. Sean's got good, manly rollerblading stories of doom. Kat and Kara have the equivalent in soccer stories. Most of my friends are like that.

In comparison, it's hard to thrust your fingers in your belt loops and say nonchalantly, "Yeah, you know how I've broken bones? The first time I was flying a kite, and the second time I fell out of bed…oh, shut up already."

If you only knew how close I came to adding yet another stupid mishap to those two tonight…

Yet another HeatherRecipe™. I confess that this is one of only two ways that I can stand to eat Brussels sprouts. (The other way: scads of cheese sauce.) No matter how the sprouts are prepared, I can still taste the underlying bitterness, and it's a bit of a turn-off. Jeff, however, loves the taste of Brussels sprouts, and would probably greatly enjoy it if I made this recipe more often.