My stomach, however, might have other ideas.

It hurts. Not cramps, but a sharp, persistent OW! which began after lunch and has been lurking in the background off and on all afternoon. I woke up this morning with a deficit of spoons and was still, by the grace of Heaven, remarkably productive. I even managed to scan three receipts for the next flex-account reimbursement.

Messaged Fourthborn and my knitting group that I was knackered and heading straight home. I've drunk a mug of buttermilk, eaten half a chocolate muffin and five or six pieces of chocolate covered ginger, and the ache is back.

When the going gets tough, the tough start a load of laundry. All of my compression stockings and all of my dark Gudrun pieces are dancing an aquatic tarantella. It's probably about time for me to grab a bunch of hangers and shuffle out to the garage.

Well, that was weird. Apparently the cure for a wibbly tummy is to stand in an uncomfortably warm garage, hanging up one item at a time, until the washer is empty. When I go back out there tomorrow morning, I'm reasonably sure that what I want to wear to work will be dry and happy (and if it is not, I have something else to wear). Right now I'm back at the computer, a second mug of buttermilk to my left and the other half of the chocolate muffin to my right.

I still have zero desire to knit, which leads Middlest to believe that I'm coming down with something, or that the malaise that knocked me out last Thursday is coming back for another go. I just need to get through half a day of work, go do my pre-op visits, and come home again. With any luck, the Social Security Administration wasn't kidding when they said that my benefits start tomorrow.

Meanwhile, I'm going to read a little, take my meds a bit early, and try to be asleep around 10:00.