Of course I'd think of something to say in the middle of the night.
Dearest one is happily sleeping with the puglies curled around him. They are warm bits of comfort on a cold night. They like to curl up behind our knees or wiggle their way right in between the two of us as we sleep.
Yesterday morning, as I was putting my backpack into the car, my ankle kissed the ground and I heard a popping sound. I'm sure the noise I made could be heard right up to the stars. Ouch. By the time we got to town part of my foot was feeling numb, but when I got out of the car I could walk without pain, so I went to work instead of going to the health clinic that is next door to my office.
Dearest one called me about lunch time and chided me somewhat about not getting my ankle checked out. I said something along the lines of "oh, all right" and walked without nary a limp, over to the clinic. My thoughts were along the lines of "what a waste of my lunch hour this was going to be". To his credit, dearest one did not gloat when the doctor told me I'd damaged one of the ligaments and should take a few days off of work.
Having this connective tissue disorder means my tissues take much longer to heal. The doctor gave me the option of visiting the cast room at the hospital for either a removeable boot for stability, or a cast. Off I went for a removeable boot. The cast room is right next to the day surgery and the outpatient department. I sat there keenly aware that my minor injury was really just a blip on the radar screen, while other people were going to get wretched, wretched news today about the state of their health.
The pain caught up to me by the time we got home so I was in bed before 8:30 tonight, totally exhausted. You know I am tired when I turn off the TV and miss the rest of this sport during the Olympic pre-trials.I apologized to the women on the screen and went to bed.
I've been awake for a few hours now. Writing here in the middle of the night is akin to deleting the cache on the computer. For me, it makes room for sleep.