Ouch.
I helped one of my friends and her boyfriend move on Saturday. Took about eight hours of solid, no-breaks work.

About three hours before we finished, I slipped while carrying the sofa with her boyfriend. Turned my right ankle off the edge of the walkway leading up to their new front door (it has about a seven inch drop-off on the edge), skinned my left knee when I went down, and to add insult to the injury, I dropped the sofa on myself.

I feel skilled. Trust me.

Minor ankle sprain, which is more suck than debilitating, but makes driving a pain in the ass and makes me cranky. It probably doesn't help that I continued to work for three hours, rather than going immediately inside and applying the RICE protocol, but...well, we were on a schedule. And they didn't have any other helpers. I spent most of Saturday night in the office, rather than doing my rounds like I'm supposed to. (I worked both Friday and Saturday nights.) And then I woke up Sunday afternoon, after getting off work, and EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY decided to speak up at the same time and tell me that they were Not Happy with me. "Stiff and sore" is probably accurate, but doesn't feel adequate in any way, shape, or form.

On the plus side, the ankle still hurts, but it seems less serious since everything else hurts, too. Ahh, relativity. Sometimes you can apply it to things to make them look better.

Okay, I'm done being a whiny little bitch now. I'm going to go put on the ankle brace I jacked from work, stagger down the stairs to my car, drive to my parent's house, and get back to packing up the stuff I never bothered to clear out of my old room.