Other than time spent writing crazy-complicated shoulder decrease directions (and anyone with a problem with those, e-mail me, huh?), I spent the day knitting.
And I mean, spent the day knitting. I rolled out of bed around ten AM (the husbeast takes the baby on weekend mornings so I can sleep in), made a cup of tea, kissed assorted family members, and plopped down with the knitting. Literally started the day with it.
When I fixed dinner around six PM, I noticed my fingers were kind of numb and took some painkillers. This SHOULD have been when I noticed a problem, but as I've said in the past, with the chronic pain thing, you get so used to ignoring it that sometimes you lose the common sense with it.
Along about nine PM, I was watching Fellowship of the Ring on my computer (it's a sickness; I've lost count of how many times I've seen those movies... I think it's all about Aragorn), I noticed that my fingers REALLY hurt. I quit knitting and started moving my fingers around and realized that I couldn't make a fist. With either hand. When I went out to the kitchen to take more painkillers, the husbeast asked me what was going on (after I dropped the pills three or four times), and I told him. He said, "You dumbass."
I hate when he's right.
In the midst of my day of knitting, however, I've noticed that my current knitting projects resemble my grandma's old car. That's a good thing. Explanation tomorrow. Memory is triggered by the damnedest things sometimes.