You bewdy, I thought. The rest of the week off to work on my troublesome Stargate fic. So it's Sunday and at best I've managed a couple of paragraphs.
There's no excuse for it, as not only have I had time, but shit loads of Stargate on telly as well, even a marathon, for Jack's sake.
No discipline, too much lying about watching crappy tv and sleeping in til midday. The main culprit, aside from my deplorable lack of the up and at 'em gene, is my current, pushy, demanding, me, me, me muse. I swear he's abducted Ezra and buried him somewhere on a lonely highway, and I fear for Jack and Daniel because no matter how much Stargate I've sat through, and it's been a shitload, all I ever seem to be writing are the further adventures of one William Brennan, esquire.
Ezra and Daniel might be arch manipulators, but they've met their match in Billy.
A friend pointed out the illegal use of cricketing jargon by Jack in my fic. So what is American for "a good innings"? My friend mistakenly thought it was some sort of sexual reference. Just as well I didn't say he was out for a duck, then, I suppose. Snerk.
Monday: Yep, Monday, still here. I did get up to go to work, honest I did, but by the time I was ready to walk out the door I'd had it. I'm just too old. The last time I sprained my ankle I was up and at 'em the next day, but now I'm all ouch, hurty, throw uppy and whatever ever made me fall over in the first place is still hanging around.
I feel like our old car that used to always come back with less parts than it set out with.
Still, there was Sam on tv, in something called In Cold Blood. It was supposed to be a Truman Capote story but it seemed overly leaden and moralistic. Never mind, Sam was very Leonard Teale (I kept expecting him to bark "take this down to forensics") and there was a lot of serious hat acting from Our Sam. It was obviously filmed in Vancouver because the cast was filled out by the SG irregulars including Don Davis and Tom McBeath.
Also, the locum physio is a very nice young man. I suppose I'm actually going to have to shave my legs.
Tuesday: The bigger they are the harder they fall, and never a truer word was spoken. It's all because life has been a little too much down the rabbit hole of late. First they gave me pills to make me tall, then they gave me pills to make me small. Then I face planted on the way home.
I still feel awful. I binning the whole lot and trying the whole diet, exercise, decent night's sleep gambit. Yeah, right, but this experience has taught me to eschew the quick fix, if nothing else. Avoid the magic pills, the price is too high.
Right now I'm sitting here thinking I'm such a baby. Then I stand up - putting the wrong in wrong footedness. I have to run through my lexicon of swear words three times over. Owie owie ouch ouch.
The Doc gave me the whole week off - yay - but I'd have probably have struggled in on Monday but for the fact they're so mean. Call me precious, delicate and an overly sensitive little princess but I'm just not up to hobbling into work via public transport, dealing with very unreasonable demands and deadlines and malicious people on top of that with the required amounts of grace. I'm just not that good a person.
Besides, I'm still pouting over exactly a year ago when I sacrificed a very special weekend to work all weekend, unpaid, to meet an unreasonable deadline and then they belittled me (They belong to the Kirk school of management where they think yelling at me and setting impossible deadlines will make me more productive - it just makes me sulk). I've never forgiven them, so no, I don't feel like painfully dragging myself into work today.
Yes, they'll punish me, badly, and knowing that, I don't really feel like going in until I can stand on my own two feet, because I know they'll put the boot in when I'm down. They're nasty people.
In the meantime I've been catching up on sleep, reading some, writing some, and watching tv. Caught Sam in Molokai, which is okay if you want to watch Diver Dan die slowly from leprosy, otherwise, not so much. How a film with Sam Neill, Derek Jacobi, Peter O'Toole, Leo McKern, David Wenham and Chris Haywood could suck I don't know but it did and the sound engineer should be shot. ADR, anyone? Hmph.
Also caught a bit of a really, really bad film with that really, really bad actor Michael Shanks in it. Well, he really is atrocious, you know. All that mumbling and twitching works for Daniel but he's really very much the one trick pony. I mean, I like him as Daniel, but that is it. Yup, coming at you, 100% cerulean free.
Been thoroughly enjoying repeats of Roswell (even though I picked up a huge continuity boob: Michael healed River Dog's broken ankle. Michael ain't supposed to be a healer, and boys, my ankle, si vous plais). Less so Buffy. It was the musical today. It's not my idea of a musical. At least, caterwauling dialogue tunelessly while pretending they're lyrics ain't my idea of a musical. It's no My Fair Lady. It doesn't help that none of the cast can adequately sing or dance. I really have seen better school productions. A heroic failure as Bro says. Complete crap, as I say.
I did finally get my hour of sunshine in the backyard with my birdies. When they gather around me it's always a little bit Disney, a little bit Hitchcock. Still, feeding the birds is a plesant pastime, and I have my favourites.
Wednesday: finally could actually stand without screaming. Hobbled down the back steps and spent a good portion of the day on the garden seat with my foot up, reading Austen and being rained on by petals. Luverly.
Thurs: It's a long way to Tipperary and it's a bloody long way to the loo, too. Especially as I've had to abandon the crutches as the carton lined corridors are just not crutch friendly. Add into that the fact that I'm working on a 'is this trip necessary' strategy and well, I've only got two hands.
Good grief, a week on my arse and I've gone back up a dress size. The injustice of it all.
In other news, I heard Keanu is now up for the role of John Constantine. Words can't describe my horror at the very idea. Think of the Yanks making Pride and Prejudice and deciding to cast Chris Rock as Mr Darcy (and they probably would, too), and you'll get the idea of how wildly inappropriate and insulting, not to mention distressing, this casting is. There are plenty of fine British actors out there. Pick one.
I was also amused reading somewhere (I was sure it was the Herald but can't find the ref) that the US snorted that someday, maybe, China would be a second class space faring peoples. Excuse me, but if the dude goes up and comes down in one piece, doesn't that put China ahead of the US in terms of getting the job done? Good luck to 'em, I say.
Finally, surprisingly, they're actually being nice to me at work today. It's creepy. I guess it wasn't so easy doing my job for a week. Heh.