Saturday, December 17, 2005

gorillas in the wrist. i like to call it "sprained hair" Ah, yes. It's the holidays. Why not sprain something? Why not do it when lifting a hutch? In fact, why not a wrist? What could you possibly need a wrist for? I mean, surely the doctor won't cringe when you tell him you're a writer and you type pages and pages daily! No way! I mean, after all, it's a wrist, not your fingers! Why would he tell you only to type when necessary (and not to lift things and not to grip things and to ice for the first little while and take lots of anti-inflammatories)? That just seems improbable. But wait -- it is my life, so it must be true. Alas, things might get a little slow around here, folks, since it does actually create a bit of an awkward pressure and a significant twinge to natter away on the keys. But you can't keep a true blogger down. I'll heal as fast as I can, promise. And send short missives in the meantime, as I doubt I could really grow silent to any real degree. Happy Saturday, kids. 11:38:11 PM    well, yes, but...  []

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