Unfortunately, I am also having a return of redness and swelling to my ill-starred left leg. You see, last Tuesday I was riding a bicycle over the Skylar's martial arts class when the metal piece the left pedal connects to suddenly snapped, thrusting me down on my left side with much force. I was wearing pants, but my leg still got scraped enough to bleed. And I got several large contusions.
I thought everything would heal on its own, but something went awry over the last seventy-two hours. Either I have another infection or the tissue damage from May's accident has made it hard for the contusions to drain normally. I know all the driving isn't helping, either, since it's the only activity that rivaled writing at the computer for making my leg swell back in June.
Still, it's not all bad. I'm meeting new people. And I got to listen to the Rolling Stones' Sticky Fingers on the drive up, which I have now concluded must be inserted into my list of ten Desert Island Discs. Every song is strong. And some, like "Sway," send me into rapture every time I hear them. I'm not sure what I'll be blasting on the way back, but I'm sure it will please me. Yet it's hard to imagine being as transported as I was on the drive up. That's saying something, too, since the I-10 drive is hardly the ideal vehicle for transcendence.