Bruisy.
Most of the time.
I had two planetarium programs this week, and to look at my arms and legs you might think they were two boxing programs instead. I'm well decorated from moving those crates around, let me tell you.
The thing is, though, that if it hadn't been planetarium programs it probably would have been something else. I live most of my life as a walking bruise. Call it general clumsiness, call it general left-handedness, call it general stupidity, but if I don't have at least three bruises of assorted sizes on my body it probably means I've spent the day in bed.
I swear sometimes that I get bruises from that, too.
And what does all this bruisiness have to do with anything? Nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, I've got nothing, so I thought I'd try typing about bruises and see if it took me anywhere.
It doesn't.
Ah well, I gave it the old college try. Probably no blather tomorrow because I won't likely be near a computer. I'd say it'll give me a chance to come up with an actual topic for the next post, but we all know how that goes by now.
Speaking of which...
Bye now.
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