Today was going pretty well. Then I burnt my hand while making dinner. After dinner, Bryan and Hope (the cat) and I were having some post-dinner snuggle time, and she suddenly decided it was time to play, which meant that it was time to scratch the hell out of my right forearm.
It still hurts. Like, a lot.
So, since I'm currently clutching my arm and alternately running my hand under cold water and the DVR is full of cooking shows, and I'm a week behind on Gossip Girl, I'm going to bury my head in the sand and possibly also some ice cream for tonight.
I'll promise that I'll return with my regularly-scheduled Weight Watchers musings tomorrow.
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