First night back at home after a week of housesitting

My ankle hurts. A lot. Maybe that shot isn't the magic pill I was hoping it would be. (Lis, don't read this paragraph.) Or maybe it's just sore because I had a three foot needle in my ankle for about three hours. I don't think it was really that long of a needle or that long of an injection - but it seemed like it. And now it feels like it. It felt great for about 5 or 6 hours. GREAT. Now it hurts much more than usual. So much that I can't sleep.

Plus I'm kind of being kept awake by making up elaborate stories about having ankle surgery and then being tenderly cared for as I recover. I hope that doesn't have to happen, as nice as the tender care part seems.

Plus I hate my job. That's the other reason I'm awake. I don't like going there. On Mondays I go to my regular job, but then I also watch a friend's kids for a few hours afterwards. I love Mondays. I'm always looking forward to Mondays. Hmmm... what does that tell you? Possibly that there IS work out there in the world that I feel passionate and excited about. And it isn't what I currently call my job. So I'm awake right now because I'm dreading going to work tomorrow. It just feels pointless and boring.

And I'm excited that I saw a very dear friend today who I hadn't seen in months. Like maybe three. (That seems to be the magic number in this post. Except I'm not exaggerating here. It really has been three months.) We used to spend all kinds of time together... and now three months have past. And it made me so, so happy to see her sweet face and catch up a little bit this evening.

And I only have seven episodes left of Sex and the City.