Well, quietly screaming, anyway. Or not that quietly -- loud enough Tam came to my door asking, in fact. My phone alarm, for some misbegotten reason, went off at 0400 and when I rolled over and reached for the alarm clock to shut it off (I don't always wake up as the keenest fork in the spoon drawer), then corrected mid-roll to grope for the phone, my right calf knotted up. Very badly.
It was at that point that the aformentioned cries of pain occurred, subsiding rapidly to mild swearing interspersed with whimpers and my admission to Tamara, "It's a damn calf cramp. Ow."
"You know you can massage those out, right?"
I tried to sit up to reach my calf. This set off another, smaller knot. "Maybe not this one." I scrunched around until I could reach it. "Aha. Okay." I kneaded at the knot. Tam wandered off, presumably back to Slumberland, and I managed to get the pain down to a dull roar and nodded off for an hour.
Woke back up hurting a little after five, limped around at morning ablutions, fed the cats and committed a little basic cookery (eggs fried in a hole punched in two slices of rye bread, using Worcestershire sauce butter, plus a little of this and that from the spice cabinet on the eggs -- try it, you might like it), woke up Herself at the appointed hour (she has a Thing to get to, early-early) and here I am, still hurting and limping. But hey, I am here.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago