frenchpony (frenchpony) wrote,
frenchpony
frenchpony

  • Music:

Right. . . What's A Cubit?

The opening shift at the Key Desk is just fine with me. But it does peeve me to have to walk there at 7:20 in the morning through a rainstorm that looks like it might just float the Ark. Raining so hard that it soaks right through my parka, I half expect Bill Cosby's voice to come floating down from above:

GOD: I'm gonna make it rain for a thousand days and drown 'em right out.

NOAH: Right! Listen to this, you'll save water. Let it rain for 40 days and 40 nights, and wait for the sewers to back up.

GOD: Right!

At least the only thing of consequence that I have to do today is take a German competency exam. It's open-dictionary, just translating a passage of musicology. I'm not worried. I've spoken German for about twenty years, and I translate musicology out loud, on the fly, at least once a week.

What does worry me is the question of what I did to my wrist at practice last night. If I move it funny, it goes click in a way that suggests that it should not be going click. The clicking isn't what bothers me -- it's the fact that the wrist in question is my off wrist, the wrist that has no other function in fencing than to keep out of the way. The wrist that holds a two-pound epee and waves it around, that I could understand. But the off wrist? Weird.
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