I’m actually excited to be going to physical therapy tomorrow morning for my shoulder, even though it’s going to cost a bundle as the provider is out of network.

I’ve decided it’s totally worth it, especially since I want to sling steel again. Soon.

It might be just part of my overall excitement about The Hunted. I adore and enjoy everyone involved — which is the best reason to do anything film related.

A bit of excitement of the bad sort came last night when Cairo threw a wine glass off the counter that I’d slovenly left unattended. I heard the crash when I was upstairs, swiftly put on shoes, and ran downstairs to find him standing in the glass as the tip of his pink tongue lapped at a bit of wine dribbling off a shard.

I choked back a scream so that I wouldn’t startle him, snatched him by the scruff and took him straight to the bathroom for an exam under harsh light. Somehow the little bastard didn’t have a single glimmer of broken glass on him or his mouth! How did he do that? No blood, no scratches, no splinters that I could see. (He was absolutely fine this morning.)

I was a bigger mess afterwards than I had to clean up. It took all of 15 minutes but I swear I felt like I’d sprouted a dozen more gray hairs.