kerplunk

Today's soundtrack:
Thrawn by King Creosote
"Waffle Iron" by Yukon Blonde

I will no longer brag about having a spiral staircase.

The other day I was coming downstairs, laptop in hand, when my feet came out from underneath me. Not wanting any harm to come to my laptop (and by extension, my dissertation), I flailed in all kinds of graceful ways until I hit the chesterfield*. My laptop was safe, but I was in sheer disbelief that I'd managed to fall down three or fours steps and (more importantly) that such a fall could hurt so damned much.

So there I was, whimpering on the chesterfield, with nothing broken but my love of spiral staircases. By the next night I had a rather impressive bruise on my arm, swollen ankles, and a skinned knee. In hindsight, I'm rather lucky I didn't fracture my knee, since it went full-force into the railing.

As a result, my delicate constitution and I haven't been able to wander or bike around town in the past few days. With a constant barrage of Canadian music courtesy of CBC Radio 3 and serious dissertation work, I almost forgot that I live in Scotland. In fact, the night after I fell I woke up in complete amazement, wondering when our place in Calgary had a loft put in. So tonight, when we were out at the market, I was once again taken aback by the creeping strangeness of things that are just a little bit different here than in Canada.

Tomato paste comes in tubes. Tubes, people! Like toothpaste. Delicious, tomatoey toothpaste.

Actually, that's not a bad idea.

The first and only time I'd seen tomato paste in tubes previously was with Lindsay aka BFF (also Lindsay of the Digital Alberta Student Award) at Lina's in Calgary. She was picking one up for Lawrence who, as an American, was apparently used to tomato paste coming in tubes. I remember scoffing at the very concept as typically American, although I can't tell you what about tubes signifies typically American to me. If anyone has any insights into my mental processes there, let me know. Actually, let Miguel know, too.

So while I've really gone off the whole spiral staircase business, I've managed to dull the pain (both physical and mental) with my discovery of tomato paste tubes. Well, and Innis and Gunn. That's helped a fair bit as well. It's lived up to the hype from the commenters (cheers). So what should I try next, then? What goes well with a bruised, sore body and a wounded ego?

* that's what the civilized world calls a sofa, you Yanks.