You Don't Get To Be A Saint, Martyrs Never Last This Long

Ways In Which I Managed To Embarassingly Hurt Myself Today

• gave myself seriously painful blisters by walking to the library in Not For Walking In flip-flops (had the positive side effect of me now having 3 Iron Man TPBs, The Blue Beetle Companion, the latest McKillip book, and a fluffy gay romance book, yay for the reopened library!)
• sat down too fast on an unexpectedly squishy sofa, causing me to slam my head into the wall behind me
• burned my hand taking a pan out of the oven with an oven mitt that had a large hole in it (who uses oven mitts with holes, anyway?!)
• banged my leg on the coffee table in front of the sofa (that injured me already once today!) hard enough for a fairly impressive bruise
• let myself by cat-lapped and did bunny-clean-up-duty, the combined effects of which triggered a hard core allergy attack (I don't know about you, but I like being able to see) and then the requisite rants about "fucking Claratin is so fucking popular now it's so fucking hard to find something that isn't loratadine based fucking bastards I can't be the only person on the entire planet who's allergic to antihistamines."

I'm thinking I should give up on, like, moving, as a lost cause, as I am clearly hopelessly, tragically spastic. Woe is me.

Man, I keep wanting to write a decent "stuff is going on" post, but every time I try it boils down to some variation of either "I wish my grandma would stop trying to convince me to take manual labor type jobs and then chew me out for being too picky and lazy when I say I want to work inside" or "yaykittybunnydog!!! I missed my pets!!!!" And my only current foray into fanfiction is still stalled on my self-perceived lack of understanding of continuity. Grrr.