[life] whoopsie! There she goes.

I sprained my ankle. Not in any fantastic, sex or life threatening situation related way, either. I did it like a little old lady, by coming down some stairs and missing the last one. I fell, and I couldn't get up.

Enter a week of enforced inactivity. I was all set up to be super bored, or else get a lot of sit-down sort of work done, like, oh, writing or something similar, but here I am at Friday and what have I done? Nothing of any particular use.

Well, I did the laundry. Sort of. There's still some in the dryer.

What the hell happens to time as you get older? Seriously. I'm wondering if it maybe relates to how much energy you have. Such as, five year olds are the biological equivalent of an exploding atom bomb, and twenty minutes in time-out to them is an eternity. Twenty minutes to me is the amount of time in between my decision to read and the actual opening of a book. Where does that time go? I have no idea. But I sure could use a nap.

I've always felt secretly superior to people with heavy duty caffiene habits. Okay, not so secretly. But maybe those people, the ones who come dragging into work like partially deflated balloons and suck up a double long expresso like it's the last few drops of fermented camel milk in the sahara are the ones who have it all pegged.