(no subject)

[hatam_soferet]

My shoulders are killing me. Tomorrow I am going to call the massage place and see about getting a massage; I have things under my skin that feel like bones, but ought to be squashy because they are actually muscles. I have got to be more responsible about stretching out after work.

At some point I am also going to buy a new chair, one with wheels and a seat that goes up and down and a footrest. Because when you write a column, you go back-and-forth across the lines like with an old typewriter, and it's comfiest if you can just scoot your chair across. Also, you go *down*; if you are writing on a slope desk, you start at the top of your column, and at the bottom of the column you have moved physically downwards about fourteen inches. I have a stool which winds down, but a wheely chair would also have wheels.

I bought my slope desk and stool two Torahs ago when it wasn't clear how long I'd be doing this; at this point I think I'm clearly going to be doing this long enough that a decent chair would be a sensible investment. Perhaps I will go to Staples and sit in chairs, en route to the massage place.

Comments

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[(Anonymous)]

Thanks, Margarita. I'm fond of this poem, too. It feels like a safe one to put out into the world because it's been puslbihed elsewhere (so I feel like i KNOW it's good), but I'm going to challenge myself to post a new one that hasn't been accepted for publication.