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[wishfulaces]

JUST BECAUSE I'M TURNING 30 IN A COUPLE MONTHS DOESN'T MEAN MY BODY HAS TO FALL APART.

Yeah, I wrenched my bum shoulder last night while sleeping--not surprising, because I was screwing up double turns in the waltz in dance class last night in a way that was making my shoulder go "!!!"--and then woke up with a raging sore throat. Worst sore

Comments

[troyswann]

Oh dear. Don't... don't do stuff. I honestly didn't know how to end that sentence. Like, DON'T BE BROKEN is really what I'm saying here. Okay. Don't be broken, m'kay? Problem solved. Let me know if you need help with anything else.

Seriously, though, I hope you feel better right away.

('Round my place of work, students are dropping like flies with mono. Stop kissing each other, students! Separate corners! That's not relevant to your particular case, but it seems like people are getting sick a lot and I don't like it.) (Because, as you know, Bob, it's all about me, and my feelings. You, Bob, will have a chance to address your feelings in due course, but right now we're talking about me. You can't even talk, Bob, with that sore throat, so why don't I while away the comment window with some good yarns and an adage or two? A parable, even. I've got reams of parables, many of them with monkeys in. Don't you like monkeys, Bob? Are you some kind of monster, Bob?) (Dear Aces, who is this Bob guy? He's... he's staring at me.)

But ballroom dancing! wheeee! So wonderful. If you DON'T HURT YOURSELF. I'm jealous. Maybe I'll come dance at your club. But not if that Bob guy is there.

[wishfulaces]

Okay, amazingly, I did feel better almost right away. Which probably means a limb really *will* fall off this week, but I don't care, I enjoyed the hell out of my weekend.

(Just ignore Bob, he stares at everybody.)

Ballroom dancing is wonderful! Walt single and double turns MAKE NO SENSE to me (yet), but the foxtrot is totally working, and simpler waltz steps make sense. This week we're supposed to be starting the tango. I might have to bring a rose? (Bob is not welcome at my club; he stares too much.)