dreaming only makes me blue

I know I'm a total klutz. I have come to terms with my own embarrassing lack of motor control. But I think it vaults upwards into new, high and inscrutable realms of clumsy when I manage to stub my toe rather painfully while lying in bed at night, asleep. (Why, yes, sleepwalking. Some unspecified threat caused me to catapult myself to the end of my bed in a desperate effort to escape whatever it was, catching my left baby toe painfully on the footboard.) I tell myself that since the last stubbed toe was on the other foot, at least it's evened out the limp. Also, there was a small but definite chance I could have strangled myself on the mosquito net, so I'm grateful it wasn't worse.

Talking about blue, this is (a) very meta, (b) very funny and (c) very rude about Avatar. Hat tip to strawberryfrog, whose icon is so very appropriately be-hatted.

And, while we're about it, the new Iron Man 2 trailer is new and shiny and making me go "squee!" in an undignified fashion. Is is just me, or is Mickey Roarke being particularly badass? Also, suitcase armour! *pretends to be comic-book geek*. (I have, after all, read the Warren Ellis one, although the fact of Orson Scott Card scripting in earlier arcs is precluding me acquiring those).

In other news this week's evenings have been dedicated to trying to sort out the garden, which the builders have left looking like something from "Childe Roland" ("Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth" - god, I love Browning, words for every occasion.) Yesterday the gardener actually unearthed the garden path, hitherto concealed beneath sand-drifts. He also dumped a metric buttload of compost onto the sand and dug it in, which means that Saturday's pig-roast has a reasonable chance of taking place in churned black mud since I'm buggered if I'll plant grass for everyone to trample. Tonight I may cautiously put some plants in. Memo to self, borrow smoczek for artistic input while buying more plants this weekend.