Pop.

Thursdays suck, right into Friday morning.

Sucks beyond the telling of it.

And this week, even more so.

Okay, so I'm doing a rehearsal, and I step onto the stage for the beginning of Act III, scene ii, the wedding of Kate and Petruchio, and it's an innocuous entrance; I walk onto the stage. Simple, right?

Right up until the right knee goes pop. Like the weasel. Without the fun song.

I stumble a bit, move to my mark, and put my hand on the shoulder of the actor beside me, who is so much in character at that point, that he brushes me off, allowing me to put undo pressure on the knee again, and again, pop goes the weasel.

To my credit (and I give myself some) I did not fall down. I did hobble about in obvious discomfort (and I hate that because I prefer my discomfort to be inobvious) and by the end of the evening, I was in enough pain to be a raving pain in the ass.

I have lessons learned, but I'm going to save them for when I'll enjoy writing them, instead of being in an office at four AM, wishing I could just die.

More later, as it happens.