I half-tripped over a pillow that had fallen off the love seat tonight and immediately thought, “Oh, wow, I’m lucky I didn’t  plant my knee on the floor again.” Then I sat down, stretched out my legs and started to work a Sudoku . . . but I felt a little pressure and then a little pressing pain that had a throbbing aspect to it. I looked down at my knee and it was swelling a little on top again. It stopped, though, before it reached the baseball appendage size it did last Friday.  I think I tugged a little on the blood vessel that I ruptured in my bursa sac (doesn’t that sound cool) when I took the BIG SMACK and it leaked a bit.

But I needed comfort, so I went into the kitchen and put a half of a foldover in my mouth and a baggie of ice on my knee. It might have been a half a foldover, but I was liberal with the peanut butter and it has lingered. Back on the sofa, I can still taste it on my teeth and it is not unlike the comforting effect of a thumb in my mouth and the satin edge (the feeler) of a blanket in my hand.

It occurred to me that I could duct tape Raggedy Ann volunteers to my kneecaps . . . but I think it’s best just to let that idea go unheeded.