Monday was also playscheming -- but broken off early to go see the Doctor (I've had persistent elbow pain following a bike crash). Turns out I either have a bad bruise or a slight crack in the outer layer of bone, but as I had the good sense not to damage a moving part, there's no need to do anything about it. The pain will be fully gone in six weeks,he says, but the strange lump "may never go away". Oh well, add it to the rest of the lumps, limps, crunches and scars. Following that I spend the night pinballing between migraine and drawing board, having found going shopping abnormally distressing for some reason. I opt out of looking at the screen and colour in this week's strip with felt tips (good! I've really been missing them) and even have time to send off my first mirror project photo. Want to write, but it's too late. Can't write. Bastard headache, bastard strip, bastard television, time dead, again. I need more hours. Not at work.
I may go and see Lord of the Rings. Again. Pathetic. In the meantime, a couple of the LOTR villains now have secret diaries on Cassieclaire's journal -- The Ringwraith one is especially fine -- and I've been reading Ian McKellen's good-to-read memories of being Gandalf the Grey, to keep my elf level up. (Groan.)