Slow

I'm a real slow mover today. Both legs still semi-swollen. After 12 hours standing on concrete and the 20+ minute walk home my legs had swollen so much I was worried I wouldn't get my pants off without cutting them. I laid with my feet elevated for a couple of hours and brought the swelling down some. I rewatched The Matador. Love it! Still. And drank wine until my aches numbed. Every joint burning today. I just want to go back to bed. I think I will in a bit after company has come and gone. Sammy haunts me. Yesterday a child in a Tommy t-shirt, I looked and thought it said Sammy Sammy Sammy Sammy all up and down across the front. But it was Tommy, of course. I need to do laundry. I am very near to being totally out of clean knickers. Keeping my wobbly bits covered is of utmost importance. Tuned into Coronation Street this morning. My, but I do love Sunday mornings in bed with CBC. Though this week I couldn't bear to get up and make a cuppa. I would not have moved and would be there still, if the phone hadn't rang. My bistro does brunch today, but i've no energy to go, no money once i got there. No energy to cook. I should put something simple on, like a roast and then just go to sleep until it's ready. It's a damp grey day. Perfect roast weather. What an idea!

Mood: fogged in
Drinking: coffee, the canadian kind, with cream
Listening To: refrigerator loudly humming
Hair: every which way but the way it's supposed to be