I'm sitting here in Mike's bedroom, watching Love, Actually. We had plans to go out to dinner tonight and then see Kinsey. Best laid plans, and all that... :)

Michael fell last night while playing football in the dark. After a brief hospital visit this morning, it was determined that he's got bruised ribs and a partially-collapsed lung. It's not exactly as bad as it sounds-- although he is in a bit, okay... a lot of pain. Every time he moves, it's pretty bad, so currently he's lying down with a nice heating pad. His mother and I are currently trying to get him to take Monday off, because he's not exactly going to be of much use around the office, what with the not being able to move and stuff. He's even got one of those little breath-monitor thingies that he's got to blow into every half-hour to make sure that half of lung re-inflates. As for Kinsey, the movies can wait. I know that when I bruised my ribs, I was hobbling about on crutches for a few weeks.

So. Coffee. Drooling over the hot guy in the movie. Awwwing at Liam Neeson and the kid and Titanic. Giggling at Hugh Grant dancing and sighing wistfully over Mr. Darcy... er, Colin Firth. Yelling for Kiera Knightley to eat a goddamn cheeseburger. You know, the usual-- 'cept for everytime Mike laughs, he crumples over. :P


The "get well, Mike!" line begins here.



And whee, Beth emailed me back and I'll also have a BPAL order waiting for me on Monday!