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So, Saturday I had a capoeira class plus a demonstration at a community event, both of which went reasonably well, plus a lot of walking around for Pokemon and raiding with people, the first raid group I'd ever done in person (as opposed to DragonCon where we might have been on different damn floors for all I could tell). Successful, I might add! I am now the proud owner of a MewTwo. But in order to prepare for this day of strenuous physical activity did I stretch? Get a good night's sleep? Eat a healthy dinner? Did I, bollocks.

No, I fell down the stairs.

I'm fine, I got banged up and bruised and pulled some shoulder muscles trying to grab the railing and smacked my ass on the stairs several times, which still hurts without even the good time prior. But I'm fine. But I was in way more pain than I wanted to start out Saturday in. Fortunately Groot took pity on me and we did a lesson with mostly gentle stretching and a lot of music and singing instead. Music and singing being a part of capoeira I am thankful for when I have days like, you know, I just fell down the stairs yesterday and now I hurt all over.

Fortunately work these days is mostly standing things, which means I don't have to keep sitting on my bruised ass. And I managed to get back in the groove of writing actual text prose today, not just writing about writing, which I was somewhat worried about. Three weeks after DragonCon, though, that's not bad. And it was in Pilot! Not some random new thing! Always a bonus. I'm churning along in edits for Lifestyle, keeping the bullet journal, keeping up with a degree of language study. I might yet manage to achieve the balance I had, oh, a couple years or so ago? Two three years? I think just two now, but it feels so goddamn long.

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The easiest and quickest way to get me to buy something is definitely to link it to Labyrinth. Exhibit A: Notoriously Morbid's Color of the Month Dance Magic Dance that I just picked up.

I should feel bad about that, I've meant to start paying down all the various crap post-DragonCon, but I am stressed and tired and the Aunt has been talking non-stop about how she expects to have to put her (admittedly very old) cat down and how she hopes she'll just go peacefully in her sleep and meanwhile I have a cat who's in a state of Schroedinger's tumors, where we're giving him what we hope is a good treatment to keep the tumors from re-growing, mast cell cancer isn't common in cats, we did the surgery, the prognosis is 12-18 months and it's already been six, and I am not yet ready to let Mikey go can we not talk about cat death right now. This plus the various political stresses plus my tailbone still hurts from falling down the stairs means I do not in fact feel bad about buying a shiny comfort eyeshadow, and am thinking about buying more. Or buying more kawaii office supplies. Or something.

Between that and a morbid if heartwarming story Gail Simone told on Twitter my head's been in that bizarre space of not immediately sad or hurting or depressed or any of that, but I can feel it lurking there on the horizon slowly and gently dragging on my energy levels. Depression had better stay fucked off even though it's getting towards that time of the three-month when I'm susceptible. Sad, okay, the cat was worrying but it turns out she just had bad fleas and Mikey, as far as I know, is still as healthy as he's going to get. Hurting... not really? Not right now. But despite all this, there is a drag.

Or at least there was until I got exercised about the usefulness of homework in teaching discipline on Twitter and then I exploded and now I am full of energy. The problem is apparently I am full of the energy of Sam Seaborn when I should be full of the energy of Toby Ziegler.