Tuesday 16 April 2002

Pic of the day: Talk to the hand?

Out of hand

My hand hurts. And my wrist, my arm and my shoulder. My arm is almost numb now. It hurts every morning when I wake up, and if I take a nap too.

There is so much typing at work now (the worst place to type) so I can no longer do the things that come natural to me at home. No type- or mouse-intensive games. Very little chat and barely any fiction writing. I think my muse is ready to give up on me, because I don't write down what he tells me.

(What's up with that anyway? Muses are supposed to be female, are they not? This one is almost certainly male. He may be gay, though. Or perhaps he just has a strange sense of humor.)

***

I feel it kind of unjust that I cannot both do my job and live my private life. But I guess this is not much different from a worker in lumber or heavy industry, who comes home totally exhausted from a day of hard manual labor. If he happens to have sports as a hobby, for instance. Of course, if he's into poetry or something, he will probably be all right after a decent nap.

Anyway, I will have to decide sooner or later. Job or life? But first, I guess I ought to talk to a doctor about it.