Between blotch and blok

OK, so yesterday was:

- dead hen

- dead catfish (that I spotted)

- "dead" Hudl (well not so much dead as dangerous to use due the splinters of glass coming off the cracked screen)

- Socks knocked my netbook on the floor and it seems unbroken except I have to hammer on the "G" key*

- the latter incident caused me to pull a half row of stitches off my knitting needles and the dark shade of yarn is making fixing the inevitable ladders down the fabric a challenge.

And Looby Loo badly bruised a finger at rugby. I was wondering if we needed a trip to Casualty, but it seems unbroken but very swollen and bruised. She's being pretty stoical.

Actually, due to various assorted other minor annoyance on top of the above, the only person (in the widest possible sense of the word) not in my bad books was Mr Oswald. I include myself in the crowd on the naughty step.

I did reach ironing "inbox zero" and make a pretty scrummy fish pie tho'. And the hen house got a fairly decent clean.

* (OK, and the "F" and the "S" and the backspace key.)