Spira, spera.

A one-eyed man is much more incomplete than a blind man, for he knows what it is that's lacking.

I went to bed at nine last night and rose at noon today.

When it takes as long as it took me to get your clothes on it is difficult to decide to divest yourself of them and jump into the shower.

Here I am then, lame, stale in gear I've had on for three days, and sporting a damp crotch from icing my injury.

On reflection I think I'll stay in.