My arm hurts

I think I can safely say that I've not really been having a good week. Seriously. The highlight so far has to be a trip to the local tip on Tuesday that ended up with a trip to the doctor.

For lo, Stuart didst look upon the communal skip and fling in a big pile of crap what He did findst in the garage, left behind by the Godless Heathens who used to owneth the house. He didst then step back and make many of the 'ouchie' noises. For lo (again), there was an great big rusty screw sticking through the sole of His shoe and into his foot. Great was His suffering, but surprisingly light was the swearing.

So I called the doc's and asked if they knew when my last tetanus shot was. They did! 1984. Which is like, you know, totally ages ago. So I had to go in for an emergency booster before infection set in, locking my jaw tight and making me look like Desperate Dan on a bad day. And what would the cat do without my incisive and wry commentary on daily life? Probably find somewhere comfy and warm to sleep. You just can't get the staff.

Anyway, the injection itself was a doddle, but as the doctor man was jabbing me with his medicinal pointy thing* he said these fateful words. "Now some people have a bad reaction to the jab: swelling and discomfort, but don't worry it's very rare..."

Ah, the delicious irony of hindsight. By eleven o'clock that night it looked like I'd Sellotaped a ruby grapefruit to my upper arm. A ruby grapefruit that'd been in the microwave for about an hour. Ooh, burny hot.

The swelling's gone down and so has the heat, so now it just feels like someone's constantly giving me a dead arm. Bang, bang, bang. Poopy hindsight.

Hopefully it's going to leave off in time for tomorrow's foray into the land they call DUNDEE! Where I shall be subjecting the population of the Douglas Community and Library Centre to my usual combination of rambling non sequiturs, off-colour impersonations, and fart jokes. 14:00-sh on the clock, if you're seriously stuck for anything else to do.

And no, you still can't ask how the writing's going.

* Please, no making up your own filthy jokes.

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