From the Deltoid to the DMZ…

I spent Friday night, and the bit of Saturday morning between the gym, the community clean-up and the much-anticipated arrival of Mrs Towers, pulling documents out of plastic pockets and either recycling or re-filing them.

It was satisfying, in the way de-cluttering always is cathartic; in the way that a visit to a large stationery store always holds out the promise of the new, organised you.

Bugger me if I am not suffering for it now.  My right shoulder is throbbing.  Why? It took me a while, because I am not very bright.  And I have precisely nooooo training in human anatomy, physiology and kinesthesiology, no sireee.

I’ve overused my deltoid (that’s the one that, once your arm is about 20 degrees out from your body to the side, lifts the arm up. It’s the v-shaped one at the top of your arm, one of the vanity muscles body builders like.)  If it’s knackered, there are a few “trick movements” that you can do. That’s kind of what I am reduced to.

If only I could find a way of tying this particular act of stupidity to my abiding ecological concerns.  If only there were an analogy, something about doing relentless, prolonged, repetitive but pleasurable/useful actions that you don’t realise are going to cause you a lot of pain in the longer term. Something about coming up with some work-arounds which will soon in themselves fail, leaving you – as Ford Prefect said of Earth – “mostly ‘armless.

Wait, wait. No, it’s gone…

About dwighttowers

Below the surface...
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