A pleasant evening; a good book, a silly iPad game, a nice bowl of soup almost ready to eat, and then the prospect of the pub.

One ill-judged arm movement later: a fiddly and unpleasant job of cleaning up soup from all over what seems like 3/4 of the kitchen, half my clothes thrown in the wash, a sudden need to find emergency backup dinner, and no realistic prospect of getting to the pub at all. Bah.

That last point is probably just as well today, I suppose. If I can make this much mess in ten seconds while sober…