I is sore.

It’s not a bad sore, for the most part. I earned it, and I deserve it. My wrist was aching earlier, rather unexpectedly–I haven’t had carpal tunnel twinges since my divorce* but ibuprofen took care of that, and now it’s just my back and shoulders and pectorals and rear that are doing the accusing stab.

In other news, I have slain the wily Pest Bob! At least one of them, anyhow. Liberal application of a substance called "Joe’s Juice" (a little TOO liberal, frankly…they said "apply a small amount" but they gave me a really BIG syringe, and since my syringe technique recently has been "shove in cat mouth, shoot at high speed" it was kind’ve…enthusiastic.) turned the biggest one into a bleached rag dangling in the breeze, and I haven’t seen any of the others at all. We’ll see how it goes…

(Why I was doing this in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a single latex glove is probably best left for the ages. The absurdity of killing anemones in the nude didn’t really strike me until I caught the beagle looking at me funny. And Kevin insisted I start wearing gloves to put my hands in the tank, after Cmar started listing off the horrible diseases I could catch from the tank. Piscine tuberculosis! Who knew that was real!?)

I am about two two-thirds done with Ninjabreath, and starting to slow down. I knew this would happen, though, so I’ve got over a month to finish the final third. It took me multiple books to learn to plan for my own artistic exhaustion, but I think I’ve finally learned!

Time to go do a Digger, run some prints, and then maybe a little more of what made me sore in the first place…

*Not that I blame my ex-husband for my carpal tunnel–or my sleep paralysis, or the acid reflux, or the heart palpitations, or any of the other sundry ailments that mysteriously vanished afterwards–I think it’s just that when you internalize stress for a prolonged period, even if you’re not really aware of the stress, everything starts to fall apart at a much higher speed. My acid reflux is slowly creeping back, but that’s mostly hereditary–Dad used to chug a bottle of Maalox a day when he was my age. Also, I’ve been hitting the Coke Zero way too hard, and that’s no good. (They make a fabulous drug that fixes it right up. Unfortunately it’s over a hundred bucks a month, so it’s easier just to take Tums and not eat so much Mexican.)

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