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No point in doing a look back at 2021 because there was little to remember. By comparison, 2020 was crammed with activity. But I became seriously crippled in the spring and didn't want to do anything after that but read mindless detective fiction. The roof was reshingled. I had some nice dinners in the summer and early fall with bro and s-i-l. I did a lot of exercise. But the operation really solved nothing because everything that hurt before still hurts, except now it's the other knee that pangs. But still with the lumbar region and the ITB and the damnable elbows that are missing their weekly acupuncture session.
Got down to the bank machine on Bloor and deposited my cheque, go me. Except I have a sneaking suspicion that walking is what causes those waking muscle spasms. I hope not. Have tanked up on the prescription relaxants and done much stretching all day, so we'll see what happens tomorrow. Six weeks post-op and I still need my walker in the morning, and of course when walking outside. The operated knee still feels weak, but doing stairs should strengthen it.
Should have stopped by Doug Miller to see if they have Our Mutual Friend, though come to that, isn't that the one with the Golden Dustman and his sickening little plot? (Can't google it because desktop Chrome now won't link to wikipedia. Clock errors. I want someone to clean up my WinXP so I can go on using it, because I will never buy another Microsoft product. Too damned old to learn new OSs.) Anyway, still have many hundred pages of Sentimental Dickens Hates On Chancery to get through first.
Oh, that lost Victorian detective story on Gutenberg is The Dorrington Deed-Box and I read at least two of the stories therein a year ago, over Christmas in fact, probably in some Rivals of Sherlock Holmes collection. Which collection left out the first story, the one that tells you that Dorrington is actually a Master Criminal and not an upstanding sleuth at all, so that I was a tad perplexed to find him taking on murderers as business partners. But there's a story about a Japanese sword that the son of a samurai family wants to get back from the English collector who has it in his collection, and fairly clearly Arthur Morrison knew his way around Japan. Can't google howcum because no wikipedia-- and very few other sites either-- but he collected woodblock prints and left them to the BritMus.
Got down to the bank machine on Bloor and deposited my cheque, go me. Except I have a sneaking suspicion that walking is what causes those waking muscle spasms. I hope not. Have tanked up on the prescription relaxants and done much stretching all day, so we'll see what happens tomorrow. Six weeks post-op and I still need my walker in the morning, and of course when walking outside. The operated knee still feels weak, but doing stairs should strengthen it.
Should have stopped by Doug Miller to see if they have Our Mutual Friend, though come to that, isn't that the one with the Golden Dustman and his sickening little plot? (Can't google it because desktop Chrome now won't link to wikipedia. Clock errors. I want someone to clean up my WinXP so I can go on using it, because I will never buy another Microsoft product. Too damned old to learn new OSs.) Anyway, still have many hundred pages of Sentimental Dickens Hates On Chancery to get through first.
Oh, that lost Victorian detective story on Gutenberg is The Dorrington Deed-Box and I read at least two of the stories therein a year ago, over Christmas in fact, probably in some Rivals of Sherlock Holmes collection. Which collection left out the first story, the one that tells you that Dorrington is actually a Master Criminal and not an upstanding sleuth at all, so that I was a tad perplexed to find him taking on murderers as business partners. But there's a story about a Japanese sword that the son of a samurai family wants to get back from the English collector who has it in his collection, and fairly clearly Arthur Morrison knew his way around Japan. Can't google howcum because no wikipedia-- and very few other sites either-- but he collected woodblock prints and left them to the BritMus.
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Well, I was told three years ago that it probably wouldn't ease the back problems but hope springs eternal, etc etc.