that'll teach me not to wear trousers

Quite a lot of my house is tidy, as in a desperate effort not to write anything I have spent the better part of three days sorting out my conservatory/art room. I have surfaces and everything. And this morning was spent remaking Bun's beds into one giant bed, as she and her TH and a couple of friends are staying the night (the friends will be in other beds, tho').

I'd just finished in the kitchen when I heard a key in the front door. Foolishly I had not anticipated this, I thought I'd have a doorbell and a perfectly acceptable delay between ring and opening of front door to accommodate putting the rest of my clothes on (look, it was hot and sticky!). So I leaped up the stairs and tore a muscle in my left calf. Screams of woe greeted the new arrivals as I fled in adrenalised agony.

Well. NHS Direct, when consulted, said I ought to have it looked at, and it's not too severe, so I have paracetamol and Phorpain Gel and am hobbling about somewhat miserably. The Young People have gone into London to see the Cirque de Soleil, and at some point this evening I'm going to have to command operations in getting the library tidy enough for one of them to sleep in. Ho hum.

No gym for me for a few days. This strikes me as a Bad Thing. Oh well.