Woe Is Me
Yesterday I slipped on a carpet and fell and injured my knee, and had to ice it all night. Now my bed has a wet spot that smells like frozen green beans, and I hurt more that usual. And I have to go to work tomorrow, boo hoo.

[I feel like I was twisted, and kicked in the liver, too. When I was about 8 I was out foxhunting and fell off as my horse was going over a large downhill chickencoop.* That's not the biggest crime in the world, I suppose, but I thought it was at the time, and my father certainly encouraged me to think it. My horse tried not to, but he trod on my ribcage and my shoulder in passing -- not putting all his weight on me or I'd be dead, but putting enough weight so that my right-hand side ribs are concave. I was dragged off to the hospital somewhere, and X-rayed, but nothing was broken. That didn't do my liver much good, I'm sure]

*I'm not going to explain anything -- if you weren't raised the way I was raised, and you don't understand this, don't read it.