My eye is sore and my hip is sore and my mother keeps sending me emails which are just photos of sheep. I don't know what to say in response to these, although I did once reply to her with a picture of some of the sheep near my house, which went down quite well as I remember, but I don't have a stock of these readily available. I just don't take as many photos of sheep as she does. Maybe I'd better take some and put them in a folder somewhere on my computer for this purpose.
I have resorted to proofreading in bed with a blanket on my shoulders. It removes the mental resources required for, like, sitting in a chair, so I can now devote more of my brain to reading wrongly written sentences. The number of them is slowly diminishing but I know much more about heart operations than I actually wanted to, now.