Thursday, July 7, 2005

Yesterday’s cryptic mutterings were no doubt grating, dear reader, and I’m dimly aware we stopped in that enchanted forest where inspirational half-verses from the Koran are quoted prior to sharing what we ate for breakfast. Fear not, though, because we’re at least two discussions away from talking about which shirts we wore today and how many times we went to the bathroom.

My passionate exclamation was true, just so you know. Do you ever type enough to make you think you have carpal tunnel syndrome? Both of my hands were privy to a fresh, sharp pain yesterday, and in a medically sound decision I gave the keyboard a rest. It helped a lot, much in the same way it helps to not start bonfires in burn wards, but it also raised a nagging question: what kind of popular illness is next on the menu?

You’ve heard of the black lung, tuberculosis, boxer’s break, and other occupational hazards reflective of their time periods, grueling conclusions to commensurately grueling work. You tell yourself coal mining is more than enough to stomach on its own merits, when really you’re saying, “Thank goodness I avoided another cave-in today. Now I can ravage my lungs in peace.” Kind of dismal, no?

But it’s not pathetic. It’s not like saying, “Oh, I’m afflicted with a disease inflamed by copious clicking.” I mean, can we formulate a daintier malady? Is it humanly possible? Clicking. I’m going to be doing lots of that in the near future. And after the near future? Carpal tunnel syndrome will be replaced by severe dying because I’m not the prettiest princess in all the land.