The bruise is taking over: like a Dr Who episode

Really bad night’s sleep – not sure why; I might have spent far too long on the computer yesterday, who knows. But, up on time to get the revised translation in from France… which wasn’t there. Nor were the answers to some of the clarifying questions I had sent to the client. Questions like, “what the eff does this mean?”, and “are you sure you want to use this word, I don’t think it means what you think it means?”
 
Eventually it came and I went through it all and submitted on time. As I still hadn’t received the answers to my questions, I made a best guess and sent it on. Of course, the second I had sent the final version, they sent the answers to the questions. Fortunately, I had guessed right, so I didn’t have to go through the laborious process of recalling the text.
 
Mrs. Ottawacker is doing much better. She has had a blocked pore on her chin that had become infected. In essence, this meant she was walking round like one half of a conjoined Siamese twin. Doctor’s visit last night lanced the boil – literally and metaphorically – and she is now back to her radiant self.
 
Mid-afternoon, I was downstairs in the basement (scene of the crime, etc.) and had just gone to the toilet when I thought I’d check my hip. The bruise is bloody growing! I’ve had to crop it for obvious reasons, but without a shadow of a doubt, it is worse than before. I might have to go to a doctor… or a plastic surgeon… or a make-up artist. Spent the rest of the afternoon trying to look at my hip from various angles to see if the bruise was visibly growing. Hard to tell. Showed Mrs. Ottawacker who was quite unsympathetic (now she’s healed, everyone else’s ailments are unimportant). “Get away from the mirror, you are obsessed with that hip,” she said. And, “you’ll send people those pictures by mistake – you know what a klutz you are.”
 
As if…
 
Then she went out to an Indian restaurant for a work event. Life. So unfair.