Last week the folks gave me a wildly unfocused and over-emoted lecture about the importance of spending my summer wisely. I can’t ever seem to decipher their faux-conciliatory doublespeak, because the straightforward content of what they’re saying usually conflicts with the tone in which it’s presented. They’ve never actually told me that getting a job is imperative, yet the urgency with which they impel me to find an activity leads me to believe that if I’m not making money, I’m not doing anything important with my life (which could be true, but, well). I spent the whole conversation sitting on the edge of their bed, facing away towards the wall and the drawn curtain, with my head down. I didn’t want them to see my expression, whatever it was.
Later I went to play pick-up Ultimate (poorly) after not having really exercised for about a month, and I also didn’t stretch thoroughly. Halfway through I slipped and hurt my, um, quad or whatever. (The part of the thigh just below the buttocks. Is that the quad?) I just kept playing. Oh, and then I walked a mile and a half home. By the time I got back I was so sore that I could barely stand up. It was one of the better nights I’ve had this summer.
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hamstring. and me too.
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