Quiet Time

I took a bit of a break this past week. It may have appeared to coincide with the holiday, but the time of year wasn’t the cause. It was the digging.

Yes, the repercussions of the infernal digging that took place last Saturday were felt all through the week. The tendons in my hands and wrists were very upset. And as a direct result, my time at the keyboard was severely curtailed as the lifeless claws that occupy the space at the end of my arms convalesced.

I did what I could for them. I wrapped them in tightly Velcroed wrist braces and spent the week feeling alternatively like a sci-fi action hero and a tumble-prone rollerblader. This may have been a result of too much ibuprofen, however. I can’t be sure. Not much is written about the hallucinatory properties of my favorite of pain killing medication.

I thought the hands had returned to some semblance of their former selves, but just the briefest of stints playing Rock Band on Friday demonstrated that I’m not quite forgiven for what I’d put them through.

They didn’t seem bothered, however, by a several-hour long Halo 3 session. They are fickle, these hands of mine.