That Moan

 

It's like I'm cursed or something...

 

Those of you with long memories [or a little patience to look back in the archive] may recall that, oh about 13 months ago, I managed to damage myself via the simple act of bending over to photo a pretty leaf... [To be fair, a large number of unfortunate co-incidences came together and applied leverage] 

Well, this last Tuesday I managed to do almost exactly the same thing to the exact same rib [just further around] by... 

 

Wait for it... 

 

 

Getting into a car.

 

 

 

You can stop laughing, now.

[Please; you'll get me doing it and laughing really hurts...]

 

 

 

Right. Explaining done, getting on with the moaning;

It's just the rank unfairness of it*. I mean, why now of all times?? We were free [ish], I'd seen the Mockingbird, a long weekend of half-decent [freezing blasts deter mundanes, not me  :D ] weather beckoned, I had plans including very nice words like Dartmoor and BirdsICan'tTalkAboutOnThisBlog...  

 

 

I now have pain, lots of, with surprising spikes when I do something it doesn't like. Also shattered dreams.

 

 

I suppose at least I messed myself up after the Mockingbird, but it seems like thin gruel. [Would not have stopped me, as I said at the time "Walls of bad words fire"...]

 

More thin gruel is that at least I know what I've done and what to do about it ["Suffer until it gets bored and goes away", basically] this time. Unfortunately, among things not to do is go lugging heavy rucksacks about t'Moor, or indeed heavy scopes anywhere... 

 

 

 

Bugger.

 

 

 

Right. Moan over.

 

 

To apologise for inflicting that upon you, here's something I've been saving;

 

 

Mrs. Kestrel

Isn't that better?

:)

 

Be Seeing You...

[[* Yes, yes. As any deity you care to believe in will point out - if they're into the whole 'explaining stuff to mortals' thing - there is in no place at all any even vague hint of an indication that Life will be in any way fair. "Get over it." ]]