Holy step-ball-change, Jason Taylor is a fantastically good dancer. But getting that spray tan? Edyta, that was effed up.
Spurs. Done. I weep for them.
All the important men in my life are driving me to distraction right now. Literally--it's hard to concentrate on anything.
Tomorrow morning I'm getting two shots right in my hip joint--one of contrast dye and one of a steroid. I need to go to bed instantly and fall asleep within the next three minutes to get 6 hours of sleep. Not bloody likely!
Oh! The current Masterpiece Theatre presentation of Cranford is blissfully good. It's an organic work--light and dark, blood and laughter, compassion and unthinking cruelty. All there. Eileen Atkins brought me to tears.
I just need a few more hours in each day. . . .