I wanna know how come my hands hurt like the dickens today when I was doing stupid yucky annoying things like driving all over town (twice) and talking to the same saleslady (twice) and cleaning up someone else's mess... yet at improv practice tonight when I was catching butterflies in the wallpaper and exploring a Mayan pyramid my hands didn't hurt at all.
I've been giving longing glances at my sewing machine, but Molly's on sabbatical until I have strong hands. Maybe Friday. But for now, she's got the TV.
PS: I knit a little today. It's part of Tour de Fleece, but--to extend the metaphor--I'm walking my bike.
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