I was folding laundry (yes, despite the fact that I'm posting twice in one day, I have actually managed to peel my butt off the sofa and be productive today) when I bumped the basket into my chest, and realized I'm pretty sore.
My heart skipped a beat, then my pulse started racing. I poked again, and yep, it hurt. Could it mean...? Could it be? Oh please let it be!
Then I remembered -- M's been away for 24 hours, and she's still nursing. All that my sore chest means is that I'm a moron who forgot about the physics of not nursing for a day.
Rats. Guess I'll have to wait those two weeks just like everyone else does.