So, while I was in San Antonio on Friday, I went rollerskating with Dre and T-dawg. Being more than a little rusty, I fell. Twice. Took a kid with me, too, although it was his fault for skating right across my path. Did I look like I knew how to stop?
Anyway, when I gallantly saved the kid from my crushing weight by falling back, I–of course–caught myself on my right wrist. That’s fine. Just a sprain, right?
Flying back to Charlotte was annoying. Constant pain, luggage all left-handed and awkward. I ended up getting a store-bought brace, which helped a bit.
Yesterday, though… Typing and note-taking and everything… ow. Sprains shouldn’t keep getting worse, I figured, so I went to urgent care and got an x-ray.
My Ecdysis: Accepting Kyriarchy, Not Apologies – "When people talk about patriarchy and then it divulges into a complex conversation about the shifting circles of privilege, power, and domination — they're talking about kyriarchy." I like the idea, even if I'm not sure how to pronounce it.
“Did you really need to wear that?” Hardi whispered to Robert. “You look like a clown.”
Robert straightened his lavender shirt. “I, my dear, am a peacock in a field of pigeons.” One of the soldiers behind him snorted a laugh. Robert shot him a look, but continued, “I know how station ladies are. I have to stand out from these military types, or I’ll never get… noticed.”
Hardi rolled her eyes and eyed his luggage dubiously as they moved forward in line. She refused to ask what was in the five bags, since the answer might be “more shirts like those.”