On Wednesday I got home for work, played with polymer clay for two hours, and went to pole, where I made progress on my self-spotted backwards half crucifix. Go me. I rode home, and sat on the couch, reached for the tea-pot and realised my right wrist was so sore I couldn't pour the tea. I made Leon pour, we finished our evening and went to bed. In the morning I woke up, went to pull my sports bra over my head and , half-way through, discovered I was in disgusting pain. I couldn't make a fist and my wrist just hurt. My ribs were also bound and it hurt to breathe, but that's a thing that happens on occasion, so I wasn't worried, neither was the physio who poked at me for a bit and suggested wearing a brace. Oh here we go again. In 2014 I was in a brace for at least a month, and a while after I was finished with that I threw it out, because I couldn't stand the sight of it. It was a shade of blue that seemed fine when I first chose it, and was infuriating by the end of the month. This time at least I got my preferred choice of colour.
Theoretically I can knit, but it doesn't feel nice. I'm finding crocheting with my ergonomic crotchet hook is going quite well, and Kris is bringing me some shorter needle tips tonight, so we'll see if I can get back to knitting soon. I feel like this might be a short one, hopefully only a week or two.
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