darnit, darnit, darnit*

*This title was revised to a PG format since this is a PG blog. Insert appropriate versions where necessary.

So I had this plan to sit at the dining room table on saturday and knock off a few projects that have deadlines approaching hideously quickly. (I've decided the calendar is the devil. Its not nearly as nice to me as I would hope. I wish I had the power like Samantha from Bewitched. (The TV series, not the movie.) I would just wiggle my nose and time would stop and I could sit there and stitch on things until they were done.)

Looks like that might have to go on hold.

Every so often my wrist and forearm get sore and highly annoyed with me. Do not speak to me of carpal tunnel. I've looked into it, that's not it. (Plus I will run screaming from the computer and never return if there are tales of gruesome surgeries and zappy electronic tests popping up in my comments.) Its more likely its mild tendonitis. And its aggravating.

I can type okay (obviously, duh) but the kung fu grip I employ while stitching and knitting and crocheting (which is the culprit for the soreness) is out of the question.

Here's the dilema: I stitch/knit/crochet to relieve stress. The stress produces tension. Which then leads to me holding onto needles like I'm holding onto a cliff by my fingertips.

I need to work on this. I'm thinking a magarita before beginning work on something might help loosen the claws up. It might also make me more creative. More creative in a good way or bad way is questionable.

So what this all means is that I will have my wrist wrapped up like a freakin' gordita. (Yes, I love Tallegdega Nights, what's it to you?) No stitching. No sock knitting. No crochet doodles. (This has happened before. A few days of enforced rest fixes it.)

This is going to be torture. I don't sit still well. If you hear frustrated whining akin to the fit of a two-year-old who can't find their favorite toy, know that I'm still immobile.