No, I'm not doing kegels.
I'm just sitting here watching my left calf do its annoying little spastic dance. It's been going more or less non-stop since yesterday afternoon. It's not painful, but I find it very disheartening to see that big lump of muscle jumping incessantly in a little syncopated rhythm all its own.
I'll try to distract myself by thinking pleasant thoughts. Hmm. Let's see:
- It's just 22 days until Darren and I get our iPhones.
- I'm going out for tapas with four brilliant, witty friends a week from this Friday night.
- I'm nearly finished knitting another pair of socks.
- I'm getting to use my German at work with a client in Switzerland.
- Ryan Reynolds has never dumped me, causing me to write achingly beautiful songs of loss like the ones that fill the new Alanis Morrisette CD.
- Two cute, brainy gay boys are coming to dinner at our house on Sunday night.
- They will be dazzled by the no-knead bread I'll bake for them.
- I never paid money to see the awful movie Miami Vice in the theater. Colin Farrell or no Colin Farrell, it's unwatchable.
- Tomorrow is Friday.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze,
(Okay, those last ones were kegels...)