The best laid plans of mice and men oft gan aglaid – Robbie Burns
The plan was to go to THE major model railroad show in the Northeast for a few days of R&R, drooling over new hardware and gathering ideas for the soon-to-be-built layout. Clean clothes were in order, so I was rushing down the stairs with a load or two Thursday night, attempting to get to the laundromat (“washateria” for those who grew up South of the Mason-Dixon Line). One misstep about half way down the stairs and all dreams for the weekend away evaporated with a hard landing and the hyperflexion of my left knee and ankle. While I was very fortunate that nothing seems broken, I have been a hurting unit for the past few days. (While SWMBO was sympathetic to my plight and solicitous after my welfare, she admitted late last night that she was secretly pleased it was yours truly who bollixed up the travel plans. If it had been her, she reasoned, I'd have hated her for it. In my defense, I allowed as how I'd have been mighty disappointed, but it wasn't a “hating offense” so no harm, no foul.)
So I have been in an intimate relationship with some Vistaril and Vicodin the past few days as I licked my wounds (no mean feat when you are a stiff as I was) and contemplated making the rounds of the show next year.
So, dear readers, I'm back. Worse for the wear, even if I didn't really go anywhere. But ready to continue on, kvetching about this, complaining about that and just being a regular pain in the arse.
Happy February to you, too.
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