(no subject)

Whee, work.

Have transcriptions to do. I'm glad. Yesterday was nearly entirely dead, dead, dead, and it was boring. Transcriptions aren't exactly thrilling work, but I don't mind them.

In other news, I /hurt/. Ow. Sore from the racquetball. I brought my balls with me, so I'll go and play again after class, see if that helps me loosen up, or just introduces me to a higher level of pain. I have a theory that it's possible to get muscles to organize on a union level and throttle you, if you just work at it. Whee!

(no subject)

Racquetball, day 2.

It is, on some level, disturbing to be proud of running into the wall. Okay, I wasn't proud of running into the wall, per se, as I was of hitting the ball. I just had to do the former to do the latter. I'm actually starting to remember a few things from beginner's tennis, way back when. Also, surprisingly enough, that old saying is true: The best thing for sore muscles is doing more of what made them sore. So now I can exercise in order to stop hurting. Yay, negative reinforcement!

Also, dear idiot: Do NOT play racquetball with the damned door /open/. You know why? Because when you miss, the ball will fly out and whack some poor, unsuspecting woman in the head. Please keep your balls contained, the rest of us don't want to see them at eye level.

(Yes, commence with the bad jokes. :P)

(no subject)

What I said about exercise making it all better?

I take it back.

OW.