Grr. 100megs was doing something and I couldn’t get in to my cgi-bin to make a posting. Grumble. Mutter. :P Anyway.

V. busy day today. Got up at 7am and let the dogs out before writing 1770 or something like that words, then had french toast for breakfast and went to West High to buy a swim pass, which, yay, is a 30-day swim pass, not actually a *monthly* one, so I didn’t have to buy a $50 2 week pass. The nice man even gave me a few days prorated, too, because they’ll be closed over Memorial Day weekend.

Then I went and did the 10K volkswalk, which was *really* nice and a lot of fun. 6.2 miles. That’s quite a lot of walking. I really do have to figure out what I’m doing wrong with my head, because while I’m good for 4 or 5 miles, my neck and shoulders begin to hurt quite a lot as I walk. I think I’m partially doing the Malone Hunch, and partially perhaps holding my head too still, which sounds really dumb. What else are you supposed to do with your head when you’re walking? Anyway, it hurts a lot and I need to figure out how to make it stop. I wonder if the chiropractor would have any useful advice.

Then I came home and because apparently I hadn’t done enough exercise, I went on an 11.5 mile bike ride. I probably would’ve done the whole 22.75 mile ride on the coastal trail if I’d had a second water bottle, but I didn’t, so, well, I didn’t. Tomorrow I’ll put the other water bottle holder on my recumbent.

When I came home I thought I’d work on my shelves, and I cleared out the leathers and the bikes and the everything from the garage and found which shelves I’d finished and which ones I hadn’t and I went and dug Ted’s sander out of its box and looked around for an extension cord… and then I discovered that the stupid sander didn’t come with any sandpaper, so I couldn’t do any work on my shelves after all. Feh.

So I took a bath and finished reading The Whim of the Dragon instead. It made me want to talk like the people in the Secret Country, although I don’t quote Shakespeare as glibly as either the Secret people, or the children who go there. Also, after reading Pamela Dean’s blog for several months and now re-reading TSC books, she sure does sound like herself.

Yah. Okay. Bed now. G’night, folks.

Oh, wait:

miles to Rivendell: 84.2

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