I bonked my head on the coathook in the bathroom stall. It really hurts.
That's all. Houseguest, work, vague nagging sense that I'm being incredibly lame and not doing anything I'm supposed to. Waste, wreck, ruin in very slow motion, etc.
I feel a big virtuous unsexy atonement project of some sort coming on. I'm afraid I'm going to have to start with several loads of laundry and work my way up from there. Doing laundry seems appropriately penitential, plus it'll free up some space to do other things.