I’m sitting on the couch. I’m cast. My legs have ceased to function.
And this only after digging half the garden for our (somewhat belated) yearly spud planting. Mind you, the warmth of the MacBook is actually quite soothing on my tortured pins as I type. Who would have thought?!
And after being late out last night (funny how slightly transgressive a parents-only social occasion at the local Play Centre can be: night-time, no kids, nice food and a few bottles of wine) I’m not really up to much mentally either.
I think I can make it to bed. Just.