terça-feira, 9 de junho de 2020

Version 2.036

I am awake today. Yesterday, I forgot to push publish before putting away the computer. I suppose there are advantages and disadvantages to writing in a state of semi-consciousness, although I am not holding out for the recognition lavished upon André Breton.

Cristobal arrived as a tropical depression today; we had lots of rain, which was behind schedule. I took the opportunity to go pick up the right wrist support that the doctor had ordered for me from the medical and mobility store, since she believes I have carpal tunnel syndrome, or at least the beginning of such. The diameter of my right wrist measures in at exactly 6 inches, which is right at the border of small and medium, so the woman gave me a medium--she wanted to make sure that I'd be comfortable. It cost $25.

I am now wearing two types of support, one for each hand. On my left hand, I have a wrist and thumb support because a blind fell on my wrist last July and opened a gash that required five stitches. I healed fine from the wound itself, but, later on, realized a tendon that runs through my thumb started to hurt. Too bad the emergency care doctor did not let me know that I could have issues long-term, but I was able to figure it out and I am so much better after using the support regularly. She did a great job stitching me up and giving me instructions to look after the wound because you can hardly tell that I have a scar. The human body can do some amazing things.

Another amazing thing is that I feel vindicated. Nearly five years ago, I had an argument with friends where I defended the point of view that people who engage in sexual activities with others, while online, i.e., physically apart, are sexually active. The counter-argument was that only people who physically interact with others can be considered sexually active. I suppose it takes a pandemic to prove my point, but I won that argument. Conscious arousal starts in the brain, but I suppose that if you're a man that wakes up with a boner most of your life, you tend to overlook that minor detail.

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