The morning went OK. Minimum-usual four-mile walkies, in soft footwear, and remembering that part of the fix from last time was to apply a bit of toe-out on the right foot, thereby reducing the torque on two axes.
Just after the post below, though, I stood up from my office chair and noticed that my foot was descending upon Huckleberry's tail. One short, clumsy, frantic dance later, his tail remained untrodden-upon, but my sore foot had gotten overstressed and was dramatically worse.
Then I gathered up Tinga for her vet appointment, arrived a quarter of an hour early owing to light traffic, went to take her out of the back seat, and... what's that on the seat? Blood? Ack! There's blood spattered all over her travel cage! And running down her wing! Grab the cage and run into the vet's office!
I assumed she'd broken a blood feather in transit, but it turns out there was a laceration between feathers. Had a spot she'd chewed on earlier in the week opened up when she got rattled around? Had she been preening herself with that sharp little beak when the car went over a bump? I dunno. I don't think there's anything sharp in the travel cage, and I'd checked it most carefully for cats before putting her in it.
Anyway, she's patched up now, and wearing a brand new cone of shame. Supposed to wear the cone (and hence live in her little travel cage) until Tuesdayish.
Excitement on top of caffeine: will I manage to get settled back down enough to get any work done in what remains of the day?