When I was crazy, I thought you were great

So, today.

Early, I went to the gym for the first time since I tumbled down the hill and did in my ankle, and noodled out a new, low-ankle-stress workout with Justin, who seems to be expecting that things like therapy and follow-up visits and other niceties never mentioned by my physician ought to be happening. Guess I have a phone call to make tomorrow. In the meantime, as Tricia Bray predicted — recumbent bike for the win! Also some upper-body work that’s all pretty much what I’d been doing before the fall.

After gym, I hit the post office, the banks, and the grocery store, came home and sat on the couch for an hour with my foot elevated. Icing also happened, and Mozart was pleased. (Begin Explanatory Note: Not, you understand, because Mozart is a particular fan of ice per se. But he does know that if I have an ice bag on my ankle, I’m rendered immobile for a Specific Amount of Time. The lap-sitting opportunity presented by this is what pleases Mozart. End Explanatory Note)

After lunch, I dove head-first into the excitement of changing various accounts to reflect the fact that Bank of America sent me a new credit card, or more accurately, assigned me a new credit card number, because the one I’d had for, oh, nine years I guess, has been compromised. What fun.

That done, and as always a sucker for adrenaline, I then paid bills, and tinked around on korval.com

For those who are still with me, and who are of an archival turn of mind — would you mind going here and looking at the list of conventions at which we’ve been GoHs and Special Guests. I think I may be missing a few, and it’s not outside of the realm of possibility that I have misremembered that we were GoHs at SuchACon when in fact we were plain-vanilla panelists.

Thanks much.

Now, I’m for doing the dishes and getting some lunch. Steve caught a cold at Boskone, so I’ll see if I can get him early to bed. . .

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