repetitive motion injury

Last night my wrist started hurting. It felt thick, like it needed to be popped (a very familiar sensation, from working four years on the slime line in a cannery), but I couldn’t get it to pop. I took some aspirin and went to bed and noticed it was still vaguely thick-feeling this morning. It didn’t hurt, though, until I scooped Young Indiana up and swept him around in the fashion I usually do. And my wrist went “HEY MOTHERF*CKER WATCH WHAT YOU’RE DOING!” So now I have a wrist…

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nothing else

If I do nothing else today (and when I say “do nothing else”, I mean write, go buy some baby ibuprofen, grocery shop and finish the laundry, all of which must be done), I will get the goddamned laundry room cleaned. While I’m at it, I would like to solve world hunger and bring peace to the masses. Michelle Sagara is writing a really fascinating and insightful series of posts about having an Asperger child, which was prompted by the bullying posts a few weeks ago. They’re good reading (long;…

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