I hurt my knee this week. I’d love to tell you I did it preparing for the zombie race that’s less than two months away, but I’m still in my big panties and just finished off the cake in the refrigerator. I’m fooling no one.

I actually injured myself sitting on the couch.

Apparently, one can do that wrong. Or maybe I’m just a hardcore couch sitter. I think it was some leg tucking that went awry and the next thing I knew, it looked like someone shoved a baseball under my skin next to my knee cap and Dave was tying a bag of frozen peas to my leg with a sock.

A little less than a year ago, I injured my finger while I was sleeping. (I know. What is wrong with me?) It’s still an issue. It hurts and freezes up so I can’t bend it. Or I bend it and can’t unbend it. We call it my Lady Gaga Monster Claw. (At 0:19.) (Even though it was only my middle finger that was injured, I make the claw to avoid inadvertently flipping people off.)

I’m feeling better knee-wise, but given the claw situation, I’m cautious to feel optimistic about my recovery.

In the meantime, I’m reading a book about healing my soul by cleaning my house.