'tis only a flesh wound

Here's my boo-boo. It's a few days old now, and healing nicely, but it's going to mean no saddling me for a while. That's OK—I've got a fleshy pillow of a back, and FarmWife is nimble enough to manage a bareback ride. We'll have a fun adventure in the nude this weekend (well, me, anyway—she's no Lady Godiva).

You know what this means, though, right? It means I can hold the secret of How I Got My Scrape over FarmWife's head for all eternity! Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha! (Sinister laugh.) I shall never tell her, and she shall remain forever in the torture of wondering.

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